Friday, August 27, 2010

By Elana Mann


When I was growing up our driveway was covered with small sharp gray pebbles.  These pebbles would pierce the soles of my bare feet when I would try and walk on them.  But in order to cross the threshold between home and outside I would have to endure the sting of the pebbles- inevitably, I could never resist the pull of imminent excitement and danger.  One of my earliest memories, which I think occurred before I could even talk, was stumbling across those pebbles to the street.  The pain of the crossing and the thrill of what was to come.

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