Topsy Tiddles was not anybody. She was not wrought in flesh and blood, but existed as a boat exists in fog… there, but hidden. It came with fearful ardent rushing, this idea of Small’s that she must say things, but she did not know how to. I don’t mean…
Author: Marilyn Jones
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Father and the moon seem part of each other as I remember that night, and both seem to belong to the night, and so did I. Father had taken us on a steamer for an excursion. The steamer ran onto a rock off Cadboro Bay. We were stuck there…
