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The Function of Time on the Magic of Place

By Eli Effinger-Weintraub

Some permutation of us travels to this camp every year: 65 to 80 Witches on a heart-shaped island in a frozen lake in Wisconsin. We reconnect to this land and each other, feeling the magic of the snow-covered landscape. The experiences I have in those five days could fill this column for the rest of the year.

Every place has its sacredness and magic–which is the whole point of No Unsacred Place–but I wonder about the function of time in the magic of place. There have been a few opportunities, over the years, to travel to “our” island in the summer months. I’ve been unable to attend, but I doubt I would’ve been brave enough to go even if I could’ve. How many times in stories do the glittering castles and glamorous gowns of night revert to dilapidated shacks and dirt-stained rags when viewed in daylight? If I visit the island in summer, would I recognize its magic? Would it recognize me?

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