Hey you ! I'm still alive !
Great job, isn't it ?
I must confess... I really enjoy the whole i-have-no-internet-in-holidays pack. So i try to make it last.
I'm back home, for like... 24 hours, and if i try to sum up all the days i spent in my town since the holidays' beginning, i don't think i come close to a week. And i hope to achieve it till the end of the summer ! Not a whole week spent here, do you think i can do it ?
I'm trying though. I escape. I'm nowhere to be found, nowhere to be heard.
I was hidden in the mountains, under the lake, near to the sea; in a tent, in a tiny apartment, in so many trains, cars, boats, subways, buses. I was lost, and i lost myself. I just found back a hand of grey and smooth sand, a single stolen picture of him, some great laughs, some dances in the dark, under the sky, under the stars, under the lake; i found remorses, and peace; i've even written a tiny book; i've made many wishes, and dreams, and plans, and partys; i've made noise, and love; i didn't spend one whole week home.
I really enjoyed it.
Still, it was full of surprises, you know ? I was astonished to find myself no grown-up at all in the inside, even if i was on the outside; but don't worry, don't worry sweetie, i'm presently carefully watering myself, i'll grow up well. I have a great tutor, two firm arms who can catch me if i bend too much, and dreams, so sweet dreams; like becoming myself, and i've got some good remixes of these old songs. Dreams like becoming blue, or full of sparkles, or clouds, or laughs, or light, light like my name that doesn't touch the ground.
It feels great when you hit the road, when you spend time with your loved ones, or your friends. But it is much better when the two are mixed up. Summer songs caught me like a butterfly, and they sent me on the roads. I think it explains why i don't like staying here, in my pretty little town, during holidays. I'm just trying to run the roads, to run after songs and friends and summer, and warmth and unknown lands and sweet mountains. I'm just running after the sun and it doesn't stop anywhere. I'm running after the skyline, and it moves as quick as most of my dreams.
I didn't want to stop in Lausanne because i don't want the summer to end.
"The King turned pale, and shut his note-book hastily. "Consider your verdict," he said to the jury, in a low trembling voice.
"There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty," said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry: "this paper has just been picked up."
"What's in it?" said the Queen.
"I haven't opened it yet," said the White Rabbit; "but it seems to be a letter, written by the prisoner to-to somebody."
"It must have been that," said the King, "unless it was written to nobody, which isn't usual, you know."
"Who is it directed to?" said one of the jurymen.
"It isn't directed at all," said the White Rabbit: "in fact, there's nothing written on the outside." He unfolded the paper as he spoke, and added "It isn't a letter, after all: it's a set of verses."
"Are they in the prisoner handwriting?" asked another of the jurymen.
"No, they're not," said the White Rabbit, "and that's the queerest thing about it." (The jury all looked puzzled.)
"He must have imitated somebody else's hand," said the King. (The jury all brightened again.)
"Please, your Majesty," said the Knave, "I didn't write it, and they can't prove that I did: there's no name signed at the end."
"If you didn't sign it," said the King, "that only makes the matter worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you would have signed your name like an honest man."
There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.
"That proves his guilt, of course," said the Queen, "so, off with--"
"It doesn't prove anything of the sort!" said Alice. "Why, you don't even know what they're about!"
"Read them," said the King.
The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. "Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?" he asked.
"Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.""
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Caroll
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