The first rule of fairytales is not to go into the woods alone, so what happened next shouldn't have been surprising, all of the wolves and dead ends and houses made of hundred-year-old candy. But I mean, what else was I supposed to do with this handful of bread crumbs? Seems to me like trails and adventures, or else nothing at all. Wolves made of hundred-year-old candy notwithstanding.
I've been eating mulberries lately, softly dried and by the handful. They say that mulberries are good for your cardiovascular system, so at least if my blood sings in the key of sentimental it will also be tasting of apricots and raisins and perfume. It's better to be delicious if you're going to wander off into becoming a meal. Pyramus and Thisbe were to meet under a mulberry tree, entering the woods alone, and look at what happened to their cardiovascular systems. A handful of bread crumbs wouldn't have helped them, either.
I keep walking holes in the bottom of my shoes and not noticing until the weather veers toward wacky and I end up with really cold toes. Still, I bet this means that my footprints will be recognizable, should you need to find me once the birds have made off with my trails and the hundred-year-old wolves with candy have made off with me.
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