You Can't Ever Be Really Free If

Sophia And Grandmother Sat Down By The Shore To Discuss The Matter Further. It Was A Pretty Day, And The Sea Was Running A Long, Windless Swell. It Was On Days Just Like This--dog Days--that Boats Went Sailing Off All By Themselves. Large, Alien Objects Made Their Way In From Sea, Certain Things Sank And Others Rose, Milk Soured, And Dragonflies Danced In Desperation. Lizards Were Not Afraid. When The Moon Came Up, Red Spiders Mated On Uninhabited Skerries, Where The Rock Became An Unbroken Carpet Of Tiny, Ecstatic Spiders.

...by And By A Change Came: I Started To Muse About The Shape Of My Nose. I Put My Trivial Surroundings Aside And Mused More And More About Myself, And I Found This To Be A Bewitching Occupation. I Stopped Asking And Longed Instead To Speak Of My Thoughts And Feelings. Alas, There Was No One Besides Myself Who Found Me Interesting.

It Was A Particularly Good Evening To Begin A Book.

Look At The Adventure. A Boat By Night Is A Wonderful Sight. This Is The Way To Start A New Life, With A Hurricane Lamp Shining At The Top Of The Mast, And The Coastline Disappearing Behind One As The Whole World Lies Sleeping. Making A Journey By Night Is More Wonderful Than Anything In The World.

A Very Long Time Ago, Grandmother Had Wanted To Tell About All The Things They Did, But No One Had Bothered To Ask. And Now She Had Lost The Urge.