Quakering
In four days, I turn twenty-one. At 6:30 am I'll be in the Greyhound station bound for Wallingford, Pennsylvania for seven weeks as an intern at a Quaker center called Pendle Hill. I think I'm unreasonably excited about the idea of a bell calling us to meals and meeting every morning. Probably it's because I always wanted to live at Redwall Abbey.
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