lekstuta

An ordinary boy named Bruce Austen always walked to school on Tree lane. Bruce and his friends think it is the spooky, sketchy street of the whole town. Old houses scattered all on this lane. You never want to be caught on this street at night.

As I step outside into the bitter, crisp climate of Vermont,  a brush of wind hits my face and washes me into a big dream. The dream that I am on the beach. Hearing the waves crash, seeing children running around.