When I was little, I used to talk to trees. They never spoke back. I believed that they were people who got turned into trees.
I used to think that the big puddles on the ground were giant seas and lakes that were from another dimension.
I used to believe that the arches made from two trees bowing together were doorways to other worlds.
I used to think that if I hopped on big stones in a certain pattern, that I could complete some magic ritual done ages ago by powerful faeries.
I used to believe that there was a whole other world just for faeries, and that you could go there just by closing your eyes.
I used to think that I had a pet dragon named Cinnamon. But he got stolen away from me.
I used to believe that I could change the direction of the wind just by spinning in circles.
I used to believe in magic.
Then I grew up.
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