I Think I've Written 40 Books, And

Things Seem More When You’re Little. They Seem Bigger, And Distances Seem Farther.

Ellen Had Said That Her Mother Was Afraid Of The Ocean, That It Was Too Cold And Too Big. The Sky Was, Too, Thought Annemarie. The Whole World Was: Too Cold, Too Big. And Too Cruel.

And It Was Lonely, To Yearn, All Alone.

It's Just That... Without The Memories It's All Meaningless.

...now He Saw The Familiar Wide River Beside The Path Differently. He Saw All Of The Light And Color And History It Contained And Carried In Its Slow - Moving Water; And He Knew That There Was An Elsewhere From Which It Came, And An Elsewhere To Which It Was Going