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      “Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”

      Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”

      “What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.

      “Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.

      “Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.

      “It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”

      “But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.

      Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

      “Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”

      “Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”

      “No! I …er….no! of course not!”

      “Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.

      “Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.

      “And what would be wrong with that?”

      Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”

      “Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.

      “Yes, I love surprises!”

      “Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”

      Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.

      “OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.

      “I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”

      “What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.

      “I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”

      “Well, after you notice them, then what?”

      “Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”

      “You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

      “Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”


      “Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.

      “Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.

      Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .

      A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:


      Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”

      “Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.

      “Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”


      In reply to: The Story So Far


        Tikfijikoo Island (continued)

        (see this comment for previous part)

        Mahiliki comes crashing down the island (with the pilot) having Veranassessee dumbfounded and speechless.

        Rafaela leads Paquita and Jose through their dreams into acceptance of their facial conditions, and out of the island’s experiments through a secret passageway underground.
        As well, Anita leads her parents away from the island, through a tunnel, thanks to the intervention of her favourite team of “invisible” essence friends. She bids Akita goodbye as he’s drawn to the impromptu fiesta by Mavis and tells him he shall see his spirit dog again.

        Meanwhile, Sha and Glo discover some strange hairiness side-effects to their absorption of honeycomb.

        [Fast forward a few weeks later.]

        Apparently Dory and young Becky who were going to Tikfijikoo discover the island is placed under quarantine.
        All clues indicate the vortex activities, cyclones, and mad spider experiments have put the international security at risk.

        Veranassessee is reporting the situation at the local headquarters of the Confregation (likely to be fired), while Mahiliki and the pilot are under scrutiny to check their stories…

        We find the three divas, Sharon, Gloria and Mavis with a little more hair, but not less slickness, in a military hospital on nearby Antarctica. Akita was brought there too, in solitary confinement because he pretends to be a WWII soldier and to be guided by a speaking dog (which is all real of course, but you never know). They soon plan to escape.

        Madame Chesterhope, who was unwillingly rescued on the submarine of captain Pavel is placed in some sort of detention.
        Meanwhile, Claude has visibly gotten back to Jarvis who had managed to get the crystal skull amidst the island’s confusion. They now both are on the submarine, toasting on the success of the operation of crystal skull’s retrieval.

        Balbina, an old lady living in the future timeline in Venezuela (same timeline as Anita and her parents) is moved to her son’s home, nearby old caves were she expects Anita and her parents may soon resurface.


          Emile Merrick was an insurance agent sent by the well know Handy Hindy Trust.
          Some incidents declared by the director were quite suspicious and they had decided to carry out an investigation in the shooting scene.
          He was to apply as an actor for the movie. Apparently, they were looking for a body double for one of the second role gardener.

          Being directly in the action would help him find clues more quickly for sure.


            “We must go to the Elsespace Arrangement” Sanso repeated “At once.”

            “OK” Zhana shrugged and smiled up at him. She was enjoying wandering around with Sanso and was in no particular hurry now to reach Nishanti.

            “We can use the Elsespace Arrangement to get to where we need to go” Sanso said and Zhana asked where were they going anyway, to which he replied “We’ll know. Whatever pops into your head will be a clue.”

            “A clue to where we’re going?”

            “Oh not necesarily, it might be a clue to something else entirely” replied Sanso.

            “Well doesn’t that get a bit confusing? How do you know which clue is a clue to what question?”

            “What?” asked Sanso, frowning. “What was the question?”


              Dory was often reminding herself (and anyone within hearing or blogging distance in the process) of one of her favourite catch-phrases: what you are looking for is probably right under your nose.
              It seemed of particular relevance these days, Yurick was noticing, for a variety of reasons.

              First, his glasses needed some dusting… He’d have to finish that monologue later then.


              What was he about then? Yes. The tillandsias near the window. Last week-end, they’d been to a crystal store with Yann, and mildly interested by crystals, Yurick had been wondering loudly at the heaps of strange plants in the middle of the paraphernalia of rocks, shells and starfishes. The store owner had proceeded to explain those were aerial plants, known for gathering the elements of their sustenance out of the air.
              The curiosity would probably have ended with those quick answers, had the guy not not given them on an impulse two little specimens just when they were about to go with Yann’s newly acquired amethysts.

              Cute. New plants to interact with. Yurick had to say he preferred plants to rocks. Yann for his part had found them funny names. “Sha” for the witchy hairy one, and “Glo” for the pineapple-looking one. Why not…

              The tilland… Well, “Sha” and “Glo” (you had to give credit to Yann for granting the reader a good respite from long unpleasant names) had been there in the bathroom for a few days, and only now had Yurick found some interest in investigating more about them.
              The capacity they had to live apparently without any strings attached was very appealing to him, and it was like a symbol of focusing on one’s own vitality, and finding the means to live out of that elusive “new energy”; of not feeding off something outside of self.

              Now, he was finding even more interesting facts; a picture that Yann had taken of a blooming plant recently was of the same genus of plants, and it reminded Yurick of plants which had fascinated him in a botanical garden, that were also from this species.
              Interestingly, he found out that the plants were named after a Finnish botanist (Elias Tillandz )… He couldn’t help but notice the similarities with another focus of his: Elias Lönnrot.

              The string of clues suddenly filling up the previously empty corridors of his mind were sparkling a renewed interest for focus hunting.


                — “Dory?”
                — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
                — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
                — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
                — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

                “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
                Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

                — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
                — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
                — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

                “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

                If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

                Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
                Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

                “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

                After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

                — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
                — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
                — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

                In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

                — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.


                  Dory finished the puzzle, yawned and glanced at her watch. There was no sign of the flight to Long Pong leaving any time soon, so she made her flightbag into a pillow and settled herself along the plastic seating for a nap.

                  She dreamed first of her grandparents in their old house in Slurbridge. The house was the same, but her grandparents, Florence and Samuel, were much younger than she had ever known them during her lifetime. They were preparing for guests, and Florence was rearranging the bedding in the upstairs bedrooms. Apparently one more guest was expected than previously arranged, and she had squeezed in a single camp bed next to a double bed. Dory had an idea the camp bed was for Dan’s niece, Aurelia. Funny that, as Florence and Samuel had never known Aurelia ~ or Dan for that matter.

                  The dream landscape changed then to an island. The “Others” were coming and she and her friends had to hide. “Let’s hide in the pyramid” one of them had said, but Dory replied “No, we must hide somewhere less obvious, until we know what the “Others” are like.” They weren’t afraid, but they were taking precautions. Someone had been looking after the dogs and cats, but when Dory went to check on them, they had been ‘kept safe’ in a freezer. As Dory opened the door, a half frozen black cat emerged and ran off. “I reckon she’s better off taking her chances out there than in the freezer!” said Dory. At the bottom of the freezer were some frozen parts of Tom, Captain Bone. There was no sign of the others, but strangely, Dory wasn’t worried.

                  Next to the freezer was a cupboard, and Dory grabbed a handful of magnetic fridge letters, thinking that they would come in handy as clues while they were hiding from the “Others”.

                  “Yukailli Airlines direct flight leaving for Tikfijikoo Island at Gate 57 and three quarters” the bag lady prodded Dory, amidst a shower of electric blue sparks. “Wake up!”


                    “Pffftt” said Bea. “Lost the bloody connection again.” She turned on the TV instead. She had been researching on the internet the three names that she had woken up mumbling ~ Gabor, Sindy and Swinde ~ and had just found something promising about interdimensional federations when the line went dead. Actually, the three names and the woman behind the desk in her dream had reminded her a bit of Oversoul 7.

                    “Honestly, this bloody country! It’s like the dark ages” she muttered under her breath.

                    Bea flicked through the news channels: sports on one, that boring election on another, more hurricanes on another channel……Bea paused her surfing when she saw the watermelon on a documentary channel. There was a pile of watermelons, and the narrator was explaining how the chimpanzees were sharing the watermelons with each other.

                    Well what a coincidence! Bea thought, that’s a watermelon AND an ape sync. It must be a clue. HHmmm, sharing the watermelons…..

                    And just think, if the line hadn’t gone dead at that very moment, that precise moment, I wouldn’t have turned on the TV, and I wouldn’t have seen the apes and the watermelons.

                    Bea was momentarily speechless as she contemplated the perfect timing of everything. She was mesmerized and awestruck at the sheer vast intricacy of it all. Whoever is planning and organizing this incredible reality play I find myself in is nothing short of a genius, she thought, and went to wake up Leonora so that she could share the marvellous moment of revelation with her.

                    “Oh for god’s sake Bea, you woke me bloody up to tell me that? Bugger off you rude tart” Leo replied crossly when Bea woke her and told her all about the astonishing coincidence. “Things like that are happening all the bloody time, or haven’t you noticed? That’s just Everyday Magic, for Flove’s sake, now piss off and let me get some sleep”

                    But Bea had a feeling that this was much more than just Everyday Magic. This felt like something else, something incomprehensibly huge and wonderful. Not that Everyday Magic isn’t incomprehensibly huge and wonderful too, she reminded herself.

                    Maybe is WAS “just” Everyday Magic after all….


                      Lady Theresa Eaglestone, know as T’Eggy to her friends, waited in the potting shed at Pilston Manor (which was how the locals pronounced Pillaughpiffleston).

                      “There” said Becky with a grim smile “Much easier. As if I would remember how to spell that!” Not for the first time, Becky wondered if it might be a good deal easier to write her own Reality Play and forget all this collaborative nonsense. It was hard enough to remember her own story lines, never mind trying to keep track of all the other bizarre additions as well. “Now who the devil is Hector Coon?” Thankfully this Pillaughpiffleston thread was a new one, and Becky had a fairly free rein with it: nothing was yet decided regarding the location and time frame, so if she was quick about it, and made her entry before the others, the ball was in her court.

                      T’Eggy (Becky continued to write) shivered in the cool breeze that was blowing into the draughty old potting shed. She turned the the carved watermelon rind over and over in her hands, puzzling over what possible significance it may have. Surely it was a clue, or at the very least a symbol of some aspect of inner reality, but what? And what did Hector know that she didn’t know?


                        “Oh just leave the reader to do the proof reading, Yurick! If ‘there are no accidents’ then a few misspellings or a bit of mangled grammar might contain a clue for someone somewhere, somewhen….
                        it might be best to leave them in. You never know, you know… and anyway, I have this funny feeling that the pages aren’t quite as officially fixed as we might be inclined to think. Not quite cast in stone, as it were….Don’t ask me what I mean, Yurick,” Dory said with a laugh, “Because I can’t explain it.”

                        Yurick knew better than to ask Dory to explain anything, and remained silent, with one eyebrow raised quizzically as Dory rambled on.

                        “It’s like the branches of a tree,” Dory continued, with a faraway look in her eyes. “The branches on a tree look like such a tangle, but they are all connected to the trunk ~ the roots might look like a hopeless tangle too, if we could see them, but they do know what they’re doing ~ feeding the trunk or the core which sprouts out all over the place. There’s a bird in the tree, hopping from branch to branch. Does he care if he hops from one branch to another? No! Imagine if the bird was so rigid that he had to hop all along one branch from start to finish before changing to another branch.”

                        “Hahahah,” Yurick laughed, “A Sumafi bird?”

                        “You might say the little bird is the present moment, free to hop onto any branch at any time, or even fly to another tree…” continued Dory, who hadn’t heard Yurick.

                        “Another tree?” asked Yurick with a mock pained expression. “I have enough trees on my plate already.”

                        “And the thing is with trees, there isn’t really a place to start hopping or a place to stop hopping, from the birds perspective.”

                        Dory turned to Yurick with a grin. “It’s a book that you can read from any starting point. No beginning, and no end… maybe we can have all the pages loose with no numbers on, sort of a do-it-yourself assembly…”

                        Yurick laughed, a trifle nervously, and asked Dory if she would like a cup a coffee.


                          Becky noticed with a satisfied smile that the word ‘Becky’ was by far the biggest word in the cloud. Hhhhmmmm, interesting, she murmured as she perused her random (well semi-random ~ she had deliberately chosen a cloud-batch with her name in it) selection of words.

                          sudden feeling!! :yahoo_surprise: breathe!! :yahoo_yawn: remembered sort (appear soft?) :yahoo_wasntme: ~ akayli?? ~ :yahoo_thinking: seem…. cave…. yeah, huge! :cluebox: known luce; knew agreed. :yahoo_thumbsup: becky full power hey! :buffoon:


                            And, Al just got a striking revelation… that if you combine some entries numbers, you may get a I Ching sentence which may reveal some interesting clues…
                            It’s all about the flow of transformations, sweetie. he mumbled to Tina in the most ponderous way.

                            Tina answered a bit flippantly “what you are up to now…”
                            “Let me show you,” Al said, “could you point me two entries that are particularly meaningful to you?”
                            “Oh, let me finish my entry first”, Tina answered

                            Al waited…


                              When Phurt awoke, it was all dark and the soil was sodden and drenched and she was all wet to the tips of her fine black and white hair. Her pairs of eyes blinked as a bright lightening illuminated the whole place.
                              It looked like a forest, and though everything was silent now safe the sound of the cyclone, she could tell there was water not very far, and that place had all aspects of a body of land surrounded by waters.
                              Jumping on her fine legs, she took a look around, looking for any clue… where she could start to build her new nest. The little ones would be soon requiring her attention, and she would have to secure a perimeter for them and herself. Who knew what unknown danger was looming in this unknown place?
                              As if answering her silent question, a thunder rolled into the sky opening it in two in a flash of a thunderbolt, revealing somewhere in the less dense parts of the forest, a protruding tip of what seemed a huge white dome-like structure.
                              That would be perfect indeed…

                              Coming from it, a shriek suddenly filled her ears, parts of which where so clearly in the ultrasounds part of the spectrum that she could hear it perfectly…


                              Glo was beaming.
                              Aye, I think we got them all the nasty buggers!
                              Good riddance! Good thing we took off our clothes, with all that nasty pomegranate juice everywhere
                              Odd that those magpies gushed all bloody purple blood everywhere
                              Odd indeed, now ye mention it, Sha
                              What’s that “indeed” business all about now? Speaking like a bloddy ascended being are ye? Sharon said while readjusting her bra.
                              Ascended beings my tits, never ‘ere when ye need them… Now, look at all this purple juice stains now, ruined all our beauty treatments…
                              So what we gonna do of this UV lamp now? Sharon asked
                              Odd lamp… Looks more a skull than a lamp to me, Sha
                              Yeah, they got bizarrest tastes ‘ere, with that clever doctor…
                              Sure, that one obviously doesn’t know how to put lipstick properly, now you say it…
                              UV skull-shaped lamps now… Next thing we know, we got magpies’ Bloody Margies
                              Bloody Margies! Ya’re so smart Sha, ahahaha!
                              I reckon we better keep it safe… Poor Vessie seems to have much on her plate with that sexy Italian… don’t want to make another bloddy blunder
                              Ya’re the brain, I reckon Sha. Let’s find Mavis and have some snacks… That honeystuff in the fridge was sooo addictive


                                Old Narani is becoming too soft.
                                While the attraction of the hole was intensely beckoning, Phurt had been appointed by a strange twist of fate to the guard of the prisoners by the Old Mother.

                                Bugger Narani whisspered Phurt, why not just kill them, these stupid two-legged animals. Why the pain of keeping them alive? Good thing the daily dose of sedative venom had them quiet now. They would only scare the mooing preys. Stupid, stupid.
                                Of course, it would be easy to just sink a little more than usual her sharp tooth into their neck so fragile. A regrettable accident…
                                Phurt couldn’t help but smile a grin as wide as her hairy eight-eyed face. But she wasn’t known as the Doctor of Breath for nothing. Her mere breath could be as sweet as a jasmine scent or terribly deadly. She had never missed a target, never could have.
                                She was no mere Spinner; how could the Mother have put her to such a slighting task. Degrading. For her, the most promising Hunter of her generation to be doing this while they all were securing the hole perimeter.

                                She would have to go. Something was nudging her to move, something like a fluid water sound, that whispered that nothing could happen to those prisoners. No one would be fool enough to dare to enter the Nest.
                                Ahaha, why would she care? Nobody would know. And the little ones would alert her in any case.

                                With a prodigious jump, she sprung to the forest in the direction of the hole. She couldn’t be denied her destiny.


                                Is it gone now? a voice whispered under a pile of giant ferns
                                I think it is growled Araili’s voice Thanks to the Snoot’s power of suggestion, I suppose… The Snoot might find spiders eggs delicacy enough to help us in our rescue operation.
                                Shall we go there now? Kay? Ready to go and report back if everything’s clear?


                                Rafaela was not finding it very difficult to jump on the rocky slopes. It was only difficult for her to remember to stay physically focused so that Anita wouldn’t fall to a certain death. And of course, even more difficult to resist to the attraction of nibbling a few crunchy thistles and brambles that grew here and there.
                                But Yuki’s attention was here to remind her, and so far, their progression had been smooth and easy.

                                But all of a sudden, the small pink nose of Yuki raised in quicker spasms sniffing the air intently.
                                What? What? asked Rafaela who almost forgot her focusing. What?! Did I fart or something?

                                Anu who was having the time of her life jumping on the coarse back of the goat giggled at her clueless question.

                                — I think the spiders are moving too. We’ll be reaching the hole before them, and the Snoot tells me they won’t be moving close to it. But they won’t let anything or anyone get out of it. Let’s hope dear Armelle will spot a path for our friends.
                                — Not to worry, Rafaela said matter-of-factly, Army is good at spoohtting. She’s the best I know at that.
                                — OK, let’s move on…


                                Claude was finally seeing a pinhole of light, at a close distance. He could just continue to crawl out his way to the light, and he would soon be release. And to cheer him up, he reminded himself that no man nor beast he feared, with his phenomenal strength agility and speed he now had. Too bad he didn’t have any time to get a proper super-hero attire he smiled to himself.


                                On Tikfijikoo, the Magpie’s energy maze-cloak was now lift. The fury of the cyclone was now in its full power, and the Magpies were starting their swift deployment.
                                The item was left unguarded in the operation room, as far as they could tell, and in the chaos of the elements, surely a few magpies would be unnoticed.

                                They had to move quick now. The portal would be opened soon too. They couldn’t come back without bringing “it” back with them.


                                  Sam looked puzzled at the flurry of new comments that had appeared like a cluster of ripe “groiselles”.
                                  Having been plugged on the Reality Play Channel, he had been enjoying the activity like a buzzing hive of frantic bees in the background, but decided to get back to his forging of a Jedi light saber.
                                  The recent didjeridoo adventures had given him some particular insights on how sounds could be manipulated to model matter, and he had decided to adapt a tutorial he had found on the network on how to craft a light saber from carton wraps and glowing sticks. Except that he would do it almost from scratch, starting with a jar of vegemoth…

                                  As for Al, as he couldn’t resist a peek, he started to wonder what this red currant frenzy was all about. He knew well enough “groseilles”, as his aunt would make delicious red currant jelly in the bayou. But “groiselles”, he checked quickly seemed to be an ancient variation of the word… How odd… Becky’s clue-sowing (a bit Cluseau-ing, indeed :detective: ) talent was really shining in her typos…


                                  In reply to: Synchronicity


                                    :yahoo_thinking: :cluebox: :news:
                                    Mongoose and crystal skulls in todays newspaper! And crocodiles!



                                      The sun had just come back on the Andalusian mountains. After a day of frying sun on the beach, and showers of cats and dogs (especially dogs), everything was still for a moment.

                                      It’s been a few days that Yurick and Yann had arrived at Dory and Dan’s house near Gibraltar, and they were beginning to feel like fishes in water —a little bit like smoked hot pink salmons somewhat.

                                      Last night was full moon, and among the howling of dogs around the room, they could at times feel the presence of their friend Finn who had promised to appear as a fishnet stockings sun-glassed trenchcoated sexy spy pop-in. So far, they only had got clues as to her presence, though they got the distinct feeling she was drawing closer each passing hour.

                                      In any case, life was different here, slower, and peaceful. The endless trail of pyramid shaped green mountains and rocky serpentine paths seemed to be each leading to a hidden network of long-lost treasures.
                                      Only Flove knew what they would discover on their way to Salitre…


                                      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud


                                        Himself, elizabeth AND A FEW OTHERS CROSSED THE water IN search FOR angels.
                                        SO THEY bought THE village A STONE dragon, AND gone THEY WERE, LEAVING AN able energy TO care FOR ITSELF AND OF etc.
                                        IN A box FULL OF CLUES, SOMEONE wanted FRESH IDEAS WAITING FOR hours sitting rather BLANKLY IN FRONT OF A page FOR idea TO SPRING LIKE lemon JUICE


                                        In reply to: Synchronicity


                                          The last few days bees have been in the news. A beekeeper in the Coromandel is suspected of selling contaminated honeycomb. So far 10 people have been seriously poisoned.

                                          COROMANDEL BEACH, VERY LOVELY PART OF NZ DESPITE BEE HAZARDS

                                          This time of year the bees feed on Tutu which is poisonous.

                                          HAMSTER OR RAT WEARING A TUTU. (Eric informed me that in France little rats wear tutus)

                                          NATIVE NZ PLANT TUTU. DO NOT EAT!!! :yahoo_shame_on_you:

                                          When I first read the story in the newspaper, i left the cafe and there was the HONEYB numberplate across the road, which i have not seen since Sir Ed’s death.

                                          The next day the bee story was in the news again. This time the beekeepers name had been released, his surname was “Prout”. He had been operating for 5 months … 5 fun? hmmm not so sure if it is fun for the people getting sick.

                                          I am wondering if it is a clue in relation to the Bronkelhampton saga … Plan B, pink tutus and supercilious prouts. :yahoo_thinking:

                                          Did you know there was a world prout organisation
                                          Yes indeed, they even have their own song. I found it when i was looking for the article and put in search words of honey and prout :yahoo_oh_go_on:


                                            Quite frankly, Midora didn’t know how and where to look for Badul. She had spent lots of time delving into the labyrinth of chapters that composed the book, at first to no avail.
                                            Only after some familiarization with the narrative had she come to roughly understand that the two books where rewriting the pages —or even, rewiring them— so that each time she started over, it was like a similar yet different story. Most of the alternate versions did occur within the same kind of environment, or the same dimensions as the previous ones, but there were always all kinds of small hints that made her get a small hunch that it was not quite the same story she had read before that was taking place now.
                                            She had even become quite good at tracking down these flimsy moments where she found herself wondering what felt “different”, at odds, or simply not quite at the same place. Like in her dreams, these were precious cues telling her to pay attention. More than simple cues, of course some of them where howling at her face that something required her attention. The additions made by her distant relative Dory, or later on by her step-daughter Becky were compelling cases of such occurrences. Asynchronous apparitions of mummies sometimes reminded her of stories told by one of her father and where more generally speaking of symbolic death and regeneration, but when all of these cues where as many portals the details of which she could lose herself in…

                                            Naasir had told her to find Badul. She knew Badul… Like Midora herself, Badul was a facet of the dreaming dragon who was exploring the many facets of itself in an intricate play, and it felt to her that Badul was stuck somewhere in the process and required some attention. In fact, she remembered that in all the versions of the stories that she had read about, Badul’s history was never ended. Each time, he was on his way to explore the new land he had discovered, and somehow, he just never get there.
                                            When she was trying to get to the rest of the story, as much as she would search for it, there were only blank pages.
                                            Perhaps it was for her to write them, like Indy did after she encountered that mummy decades ago, not necessarily to exorcise the experience, but rather to learn more about her connections.

                                            What were her own connections? She wondered.
                                            What did happen to Badul on his way to the clandestine traveling portal of Gralm Tur? And why did it matter? Did he found something about the network, and some link to the skulls which have been an obsession for quite some time for some of the major and most intriguing characters of this inter-dimensional sopoohpera?

                                            Truth was, Badul felt a bit like an oddball to her. She didn’t know how to get close to him. Apparently, when she had read the early articles from her great-uncle Cuthbert, she had found out that he had connected quite well to the daunting character. As a matter of fact, most of his comments had helped flesh out the character, while most of the other participants in the books had been only remotely observing his deeds. However priceless these clues were, Midora knew by now that they were not absolute, and would rewrite differently if the story was asking for it. And in fact, perhaps her own addition would change whatever his fate would have been.


                                            Midora could feel Badul differently now… a young boy, whom she is babysitting, in another life.
                                            Bastian is baby Badul’s name and he’s a toddler, a toddler exploring an unknown world made of colourful toys.
                                            Midora (her name’s Ada in that focus) likes to work for little Bastian’s family. The woman, his mother, looks a bit odd like Morticia Addams, or like a Cher just out of her bed, but Ada likes her. She’s busy traveling alot, and doesn’t have much time to care for the baby.

                                            Midora thinks she has read about his woman somewhere in the books…
                                            Could it be that? Yes,… there is little doubt about it.
                                            It seems like she’s just run into young Carla

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