Helen and her father, Abraham, lived five miles south of Ashenhall, along a winding dirt road. Their farmhouse wanted for paint, the lawn could have done with a trim, and Hemrick the Clydesdale was troubled by the drip in his stable over his favourite resting spot, but they were happier here than they could ever be in the city. Helen was taught at home by her father and a geriatric tutor who stopped by twice a week, but she learned most of what she knew from the musty…
“It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious.” — Oscar Wilde // 29 y/o fiction writer and editor from the Maritimes