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They don’t understand, these Big Folk, what it’s like to find yourself the size of a fauntling; to have to run to keep up, and hunt out chairs with rungs between the legs so you can climb them, and then still need a book beneath you to find the table. They don’t understand why you have to look away or get a crick in your neck when talking to them.
They don’t understand that you might be older than they are. That they look as much like children to you as you do to them.
But some of them try.
( links )
They don’t understand that you might be older than they are. That they look as much like children to you as you do to them.
But some of them try.
( links )
