SOME TALES wait shy until they tell themselves..
and this is one of them.
It has sat long time in the corner of a tree with a whistle on its lips and thoughts on its shoulders whispering to me quietly and sometimes loudly.
I am not sure when it began, but today it seems to have given me its hand and a book of pages and here it is for you .. to smile to.
Some folk may have heard it first here ~ this Hermit's house, this Sanctuary for Strangeness.
You are welcome along.
Stories are the most important thing...