All my life I've wanted to be the kid who gets to cross over
into the magical kingdom. I devoured those books by C.S. Lewis and William
Dunthorn, Ellen Wentworth, Susan Cooper, and Alan Garner. When I could get them
from the library, I read them out of order as I found them, and then in order,
and then reread them all again, many times over. Because even when I was a
child I knew it wasn't simply escape that lay on the far side of the borders of
fairyland. Instinctively I knew crossing over would mean more than fleeing the
constant terror and shame that was mine at that time of my life. There was a
knowledge – an understanding hidden in the marrow of my bones that only I can
access ― telling me that by crossing over, I'd be coming home.
That's the reason I’ve yearned so desperately to experience the wonder, the mystery, the beauty of that world beyond the World As It Is. It's because I know that somewhere across the border there's a place for me. A place of safety and strength and learning, where I can become who I'm supposed to be. I've tried forever to be that person here, but whatever I manage to accomplish in the World As It Is only seems to be an echo of what I could be in that other place that lies hidden somewhere beyond the borders.
Charles de Lint

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