Do I dare?

What was written here...


was imagined here.

Do I dare step in? For we all know that those who step in never return the same.

After all, it's a land of mysticism. It's the world that only children and the one grown man by the name of C.S. Lewis can really know. That world with entryways made of bent trees covered in vines,

winding paths enclosed by green trees and weeds that dance as you pass them by,

and animals that speak.

And so, I ask, what is one to do after stepping back into the common world of underground trains, street vendors, and men in business suits?

I think the Inklings knew.

And so do we.

It's good we have each other. And our leaf.

And our memory.

I suppose England will never be the same in our memory, for we have secrets of a distant land. Perhaps tomorrow I'll again dare to enter.