My face goes pale, for two reasons. One, he's going to be fighting against my home, and that he's just going to leave me like he said he wouldn't. I let go of his hands and cross my arms, swallowing before looking down.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. — Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah
