A long time ago in a decade far, far away, a little girl sat enthralled, reading her way through the Giant Golden Book of Elves and Fairies. She already knew that these were ‘fairy tales’… real faeries were very different; not tiny winged fashion models, but something far deeper and older. The stories were good, though and anything that lived between the covers of a book was always magical.
There were tales of missing mer-children, silver slippers and all manner of poems and folk-tales. The only poem I remember was a tale of fairy music, calling as the fairies danced in the moonlight and the only line that always stayed with me was, ‘when a ring’s around the moon‘.
I looked it up. That’s the magic of the internet, right there. As soon as memory resurfaces, our fingers can trace what our conscious minds have lost…
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