What happens in the end?
We have adventures, of course.
But what do you do when you’re out in the forest?
It’s a different story I’m telling.
Is that really true or are you telling a story?
I’ve been far away. I’ve been to a magical forest.
I guess that what we do now is that we go check it out.
And before that, of course, he was nothing at all.
He is a tired shape on a country lane.
If he can steady himself, he may yet survive; stranger things have happened.
It’s always straining at the reins.
But now his senses are scrambled.
Others think he is good.
He normally does know what he’s doing.
By rights he should know what he is doing.
The movement of bodies is as stately as a waltz.
The world is confusing, but the forest is not.
She needs a moment to knock her thoughts into shape.
You want to look to the future.
Still, it is hard not to wonder what he might look like.
She hears nothing but birdsong, acorns dropping and the wind in the leaves.
But the world will ask us questions.
I think I like it better that way.
I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.
But first of all we watch the fish.
There is nothing to do but hope that whatever comes next will be brighter and better.
Still, the world has always puzzled him.
Sometimes you can reach him and sometimes you can’t.
The world must move on.
It is a time of beginnings for those who can make them.
The whole house is haunted. It will not let her go.
It is an era of change, that much is clear.
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