They call these plains "The Karanas," which struck me as a little offensive at first. 

I'm no bard, but sometimes metaphors are just true.

I finally got up the courage to cross the wall this week. You know the one.

You know that feeling when you walk into a room and suddenly every conversation stops?

My name’s Tansy Goldbutton, and this journal is the last gift my Ma gave me before she wandered off five years ago.