Puny mortal! You wish to change the very parameters of Time itself? There are things in this version of your multiverse that your feeble brain could never comprehend! Time is never ending, no beginning, no finality. You cannot change the course of Time. You are no Dark Lord.
[sigh] So shall I try turning the desktop on and off again?
Yes, try that, and if that doesn’t work, just pop in a support request. Have a good day!
“Shall we go to Francavilla in the summer?”
“Are there caves there?”
“Yes, there are caves there.”
“Ok then, let’s go.”
“But we can’t go now. We’ll go in the summer.”
“Can we see the caves in the summer?”
“Yes, that’s right. We’ll see the caves in the summer.”
“But we can’t go now?”
“No, we can’t go now. In the summer.”
“See the caves in the summer.”
“Yes, that’s right darling. We’ll see the caves in the summer.”
“Is it dark in the caves in the summer?”
“No, there are lights in the caves.”
“In the winter too?”
“Yes, I think so. In the winter too. There are always lights in the caves.”
“But it mustn’t be dark in the summer.”
“Well, sometimes it’s dark in the summer. It’s dark at night, you remember, and it’s dark in the caves if they didn’t have lights.”
“But they have lights in the caves?”
“Yes, they have lights in the caves.”
“In the summer.”
“In the summer.”
“It mustn’t be dark in the summer.”
“No, don’t worry, it won’t be dark.”
“Ok, let’s go.”
“Yes, we’ll go. In the summer.”
“See the caves in the summer.”
“Yes, that’s right, we’ll see the caves in the summer. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Rosanna is a kindergarten English teacher in Italy. There are nine or ten children in the room, all doing different things until she calls them to her. She is sitting on a low chair and has a colourful book on her knees.
Rosanna: Children, come, come. Bambini, venite.
The children gather round and after some pushing and scuffling all sit cross-legged around her.
Rosanna: Look! Look! Who is? Who is? Guardate? Chi è? Sapete chi è?
Children: Shouts of ‘Sì’.
Rosanna: It’s the wolf! Look, it’s the wolf! Sì, sì, è il lupo. See his eyes! What big eyes! What black eyes! Che occhi grandi, no? Avete visto che occhi? Carlino had such eyes. Such deep black eyes. He looked at me and I was lost. I forgot he was the wolf. Che occhi….
The children look at one another as Rosanna’s voice tails away. She touches her eye with the tip of a finger. FADE
