Imagine you’re browsing some used books for sale a museum dedicated to rural country life, which you are attending because, perhaps, you’re the sort of person who grew up in such a setting and are feeling nostalgic, when suddenly you stumble across your own childhood copy of a book. It’s the circle of life, Simba.
Andrews “couldn’t believe it when I found this book … Had to repurchase it. What are the chances?!” She couldn’t remember any details about the secret language her and her sister had written on the book. “I had a grid on a sheet of paper with a ‘key’ as to what symbols meant what. This is going back many years, probably 1993/94.”
Aw, 93/94? ANCIENT HISTORY. She is SO OLD. (By then, I’d already dropped out of university and was just returning to it after living like a bum on a highway somewhere in America, thinking, Maybe tomorrow, I’ll want to settle down, but until tomorrow, I’ll just keep moving on… Then it became tomorrow. And now here I am.)