She had never been in such an isolated part of the country side before. North Carolina seemed so new and mystical to her as she drove down the dirt mountain road. She was heading to a cabin where she would spend her time in quiet, writing poetry. It wasn't long that she came upon the cabin, nestled in the woods. After parking her car and taking her luggage inside, Leana was at ease.
Sitting on the front porch with paper and pencil Leana eased back into her rocking chair. She had borrowed this cabin from her uncle who spent much time there. Old age had left him unable to visit his cabin alone, so he left it for others to use being a private man. A taste for privacy was something Leana had inherited from her family as well. She preferred her own thoughts to the spoken thoughts of others and
