by Charlotte Reads Classics

Still coming towards me, [the trees] might have been some mythological apparition, a coven of witches, a group of Norns propounding oracles. But I saw them as ghosts from my past, beloved companions from childhood, sometime friends reminding me of shared moments. Like risen shades, they seemed to be asking me to take them with me, to bring them back to the realm of the living.
Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower