The Huffington Post -
21 Oct 2015 23:50

Moonrise, 1884 Stanislaw Maslowski A little over two years ago, I went to the closet where I kept a hidden stash of pills, carefully packed them among my things into a small weekend suitcase, made reservations at an inn I had stayed at with my mother when I was a teenager and left for the beach town of my childhood without telling anyone. I was headed towards the place where I had had my happiest years, those golden, magical summers when I was young. So I could remember. I needed to face down so...
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