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From the shoulders, slowly a pair of wings unfolded, wings made of rainbows, of light upon water, of poetry. Calvin fell to his knees. “No,” Mrs. Whatsit said, though her voice was not Mrs. Whatsit’s voice. “Not to me Calvin. Never to me. Stand up.
From the shoulders, slowly a pair of wings unfolded, wings made of rainbows, of light upon water, of poetry. Calvin fell to his knees. “No,” Mrs. Whatsit said, though her voice was not Mrs. Whatsit’s voice. “Not to me Calvin. Never to me. Stand up.
