If you could have an island – where everyone you met on your morning walk was someone you wanted to talk to – where words weren't wasted and time was careful – where everything that went into your mouth came from a place that you knew – where no thought was so different it couldn't be voiced – where fear was there to be swallowed and understanding was known to come at a price -that would be the green island of quirk.
-- Wendy Murray
1 comment:
or Vashon, where I live now.
You'd love this place
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