The spell was on the very fist page: a calling for the lost to be found.We wanted our diaries found. So Holly suggested we try it.At first it was like a recipe: gathering moss and branches, raiding our cupboards for olive oil, slipping saints medals out of our nanas' wallets, rooting through the Christmas boxes in the attic, looking for silver string. It was silly and secret and made us feel like kids making mud pies. None of us took it seriously, not even Holly.
-Moïra Fowley-Doyle
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