Isabelle had always thought of her mind as a garden, a magical place to play as a child, when the grown-ups were having conversations and she was expected to listen politely.

She had always considered that one of the luxuries of growing older would be the chance to wander through the garden that had grown while she wasn’t looking. She would sit on a bench and let her mind take every path.

~ Erica Bauermeister

|Lisbon, Portugal|

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