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My sister takes this bag with her everywhere, like a Mary Poppins bag only hers actually gets bigger from putting so much stuff in it so it’s practically as big as she is but she still carries it all the time, no matter where she goes.

Someday she’ll be an excellent nomad.

Right now it just slows her down when we walk, especially in the snow. I make a point to leave twenty minutes early whenever I have to take her anywhere. Even beyond the bag she gets easily distracted by all sorts of things, but if I complain to Mom about it she says I need to allow her to fully explore her curiosity and doesn’t seem to care that between her curiosity and her giant bag we’re always late for things, but Mom also says things like time is an illusion.

“What are you doing?” I ask my sister as she stops mid-walk to pull a scarf from her bag and tie it around a tree.

“Trees get cold,” she says, as though this is an obvious fact.

“Someone’s just going to take it,” I tell her, but she only shrugs.

“That’s okay. Maybe they’re cold, too.”

She gives the tree a friendly pat and then hefts her bag back on her shoulder so we can continue our slow journey through the snow.

 

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

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