When I was at home, I wrapped myself in a blanket of my own words and sounds. I called it my old blanket.
My blanket was warm. It was soft. It covered me all over. It made me feel safe. Sometimes I didn't want to go out. I wanted to stay under my old blanket forever.
My Two Blankets
by Irena Kobald & Freya Blackwood
ISBN 978-1-742-97937-3
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