My earliest stories were always anything and everything Enid Blyton. And Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Trada dum dee. Then came Harry Potter. I think this statement applies to pretty much half the kid population back then. Now it’s a different world, with different pastimes.
I get up this Sunday morning and for a second I don’t understand where I am- my dreams took me to Hogwarts and Long island and my imagination was on fire, apparently. The small room in the hostel was the hardest reality crash I’m bound to ever experience.I will my eyes shut and my imagination takes over again..
but really, truely, have I ever thanked the authors of my childhood enough? They created a world of purity, fantasy and magic.
And an everlasting bond of friendship- Thankyou.