There comes a hush between darkness and day.Like expectation of a caress.A murmur of silence. Tree crests peeked down at Paulette through slowly lifting fog. Bark felt around for its texture again. Morning gathered and drifted through mere hints; through vague hopeful nuances of ‘Just maybe’.- From "The Gardens of Ailana" handbook for healers & mystics
Edward Fahey, The Gardens of Ailana
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