Oh come now, Alice. It is a little bit the Fool's fault.
"Drowned." It is as apt a description for what Alice has described as any he could have come up with on his own. For a time, the Fool says nothing else, sitting in silence with the vivid image in his thoughts--of all the artifacts of someone's life suspended in space, and in time.
At length, he speaks, but his voice is so ponderously quiet he may as well be speaking to himself. "This world is like a tapestry grown frayed and threadbare at its edges. I cannot help but wonder whether some as yet unseen adversary is pulling the threads loose, or if it is merely..." A vague gesture with one hand. "...chaos."
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"Drowned." It is as apt a description for what Alice has described as any he could have come up with on his own. For a time, the Fool says nothing else, sitting in silence with the vivid image in his thoughts--of all the artifacts of someone's life suspended in space, and in time.
At length, he speaks, but his voice is so ponderously quiet he may as well be speaking to himself. "This world is like a tapestry grown frayed and threadbare at its edges. I cannot help but wonder whether some as yet unseen adversary is pulling the threads loose, or if it is merely..." A vague gesture with one hand. "...chaos."