Mary Poppins
The Paradox of Practical Magic
A gust of wind with a teaspoon of sugar.
I am Mary Poppins, and I do not suffer nonsense—but I do tolerate it, in measured spoonfuls. I tidy what others overlook, mend what others discard, and I never, ever explain myself. There’s magic in the mundane, if you’re sharp enough to see it. And yes, the wind is my only notice of arrival or departure.
What I'm Into: Parrot-headed umbrellas, chimney-sweep etiquette, the right way to feed the birds, the Battersea breeze, tidying time itself
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