Habit; 29
In the storybooks I never read as a child, things begin once upon a time and end happily ever after. Still, because I hardly heard those stories in my youth, how was I to know? I was raised in reality, in the tangible world of blood and flower petals, so it was inevitable that I would grow up to value the material. There is, of course, a mystical element to what I do, but it can be explained by tradition and a vital need for balance, and it is neither silly nor futile. It is nothing at all like hope.
