The other day while visiting Michael, I decided to finally take a photo of one of the books languishing in his place for the past three or so years. He has boxes of them, still unopened.
It's a children's story about a Fairy and (some) weed.
Or maybe it's a biography, who can tell.
It was written by a family friend of his parents...a now deceased former nun and her spinster sister (?), I believe...you know, just in case the whole thing wasn't freaky enough.
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