Pablito’s Reviews > Wallaçonia > Status Update

I inhaled deeply, and I thought: this is being in Wallaconia, the papery smell, the stillness, the old charts, the view of bare trees and stiff, icy reeds, rippled by windows someone made by hand. I was embarrassed, though, to be eighteen and thinking of a childhood fantasy as though it were real. I felt like I'd wet my bed. But I had to have a place for my mind to go. I couldn't live without it.