When I was a girl I spent hours making paper dolls.
I must have had about a hundred, each one with a name and a little shoebox full of clothes.
I colored them with my coveted Prismacolors, designing their outfits, imagining their lives.
In those moments I was so absorbed that being interrupted from my activities was something like coming out of a trance.
My little world of dolls seemed so real to me it was almost as if they came alive.
And today, sometimes I wonder...
If perhaps three of them did.
