No, it's not Alice this time. It is me, the mortal being that dares to trouble the stillness of an already long established kingdom. The kingdom of wonder. And it is this moment that I wonder what I am going to say when I meet Alice. Oh, I would never try to chase her away from her own space that she's already been assigned to, I could peacefully live with her for that momentary instance I would be allowed to peer into this space. Because it won't be forever. Eternity is the time of Alice, she's bound to an eternal existence in Wonderland, unlike me. And she can't evade it. I wonder how that must feel like; the eternity versus the extraordinary touch of my isolated chunk of time in which I passingly linger in the realm of Wonderland. So what do I say to her when faith or some mischievous narrator interferes and makes our paths cross?I'm afraid I'm not going to live up to her wits. And suddenly a sense of fear overwhelms me. I shouldn't have trespassed, I shouldn't spoil the beauty of Wonderland with my rash worldliness, for it's a place where every line is wonderful and I can certainly say that it's not in my line to produce remarkable replies.
But what really makes Wonderland lines stand out is the very complexity behind simplicity, how could one create a grand content with simple tools like Alice or White Rabbit can with an amazing ease of spirit. There's subtlety in them, but it flows naturally like a water stream, whereas I'm bound to a conscious effort of shaping up my thoughts which to me, makes everything worse. I wish I could liquefy those thoughts and set them free like the afore mentioned stream like they do and that way not feel the pungent look of the outer self. The social censorship. The Superego. These "characters" obviously missed out on the wondrous realm of Wonderland which is why I'm here, while I dare to be here, at least while I'm carelessly throwing these words on the piece of paper, originally laying blank in front of my eyes. Yes, I'm here to learn, I'm here to heal that coarse, raw spirit of mine, to set myself free, a self immured to the dungeon of worldly matters, a self enslaved in a grey daily routine that the living mercilessly dictates.
At this very instance I can say I'm in Wonderland and I can certainly say I'm in wonder. Just about to plunge myself into the restful sleep of the night when it strikes me: no one goes to sleep in Wonderland, it's a constant state of wonder that keeps you awake. That's right. I don't remember anyone reporting Alice' bedtime, she ingenuously embarked on a continuous series of adventures. Boredom or sleep are simply markers of the downgraded humankind and Wonderland is by far a superior alternative to Man's Land. And still, here's a human being that dared to timidly pace into this marvellous space and to discover it with eyes wide open in simple, witty words. Oh, no, I could never pride myself to be that person; of course I'm talking about Alice. My immersion into this universe is nothing more that a mere, feeble copy less naive however, than Alice's endeavour. I knew what I was looking for, I knew what awaited me, while she didn't.
It is this very innocence and the courage to venture into the unknown that makes Alice a superior being and me, a poor observer fellow. Or, otherwise you could call me a cheeky intrusive narrator, for that was my part this time. Perhaps the characters took a peek and noticed the intrusion of a this queer being remotely reminding them of when they first met Alice and wondered, for we are in Wonderland, aren't we? As odd as I might have seemed, I'm under absolute certainty that the sight of me spurred some sort of witty exchange of lines that I wasn't able to grasp; for I didn't approach them directly. I dare not trouble the stillness of Wonderland. And Wonderland still exists. With or without me in it.
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