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Thursday, January 28, 2010

from anonymous

O Trees, Trees, Trees," said Lucy, though she had not been intending to speak at all. "O Trees, wake, wake, wake. Don't you remember it? Don't you remember me? Dryads and hamadryads, come out, come to me."

Though there was not a breath of wind, they all stirred about her. The rustling noise of the leaves was almost like words. The nightingale stopped singing as if to listen to it. Lucy felt that at any moment she would begin to understand what the trees were trying to say. But the moment did not come. The rustling died away. The nightingale resumed its song. Even in the moonlight the wood looked more ordinary again. Yet Lucy had the feeling that she had just missed something: as if she had spoken to the trees a split second too soon or a split second too late, or used all the right words except one; or put in one word that was just wrong.

Quite suddenly she began to feel tired. She went back to the bivouac, snuggled down between Susan and Peter, and was asleep in a few minutes. Prince Caspian, by CS Lewis

Monday, January 04, 2010