Buffer During my 'travels' as a writer, as a follower of mythical marvels, a dreamer who shapes words, and a believer in making dreams come true, I have met unicorns. I met them long ago, when I was a girl... a girl whom animals followed through the streets, who sat under shady trees and talked to the ethers, sending out her thoughts in happy, floating imaginings; who deliberately touched trees as she passed them and climbed rocky, red soiled and sun-struck hills, barefoot. A girl who cradled her pet chicken for hours at a time, stroking the red feathers and telling her things about the magical ministries of nature and fairies, which chickens must already know as they scratch in the yard and roll in the dirt after a day of dozing in the sun.