You guys. I have been going to Maine every summer for, like, eight years, and I have wanted to do a proper photoshoot in front of this library for just as long. One day I will sell enough short stories to buy this place and hoard mannequins & antique hats in every corner. I will wake up in the tower and shout at young women taking photos on my stoop, but I’ll secretly love it, those descendents of mine. This place isn’t the kind of secret you hold too tight.
I have no idea where those white lines came from. I like to think an inchworm was crawling across my lens.
Post title taken from my favorite Blackmore’s Night song.