A lake of tears
A story within the story
Steps came closer and someone sat down next to her.
Alice turned her head.
Jazz held up a flask. ‘Drink.’
Alice looked at the flask.
‘Drink,’ Jazz repeated.
With an effort, Alice turned, flopped down on the ground, leant her back against the barn and accepted the flask.
‘I wonder where tears come from,’ Alice remarked, after taking a sip of water.
Jazz’s lips moved, but Alice cut her short: ‘No. I don’t want to know. You’d take away the magic. I’ll give them a story, just for myself. A story with a magic lake: lights twinkle on the surface. And then grief fills the lake from below and pushes out the tears. No, no it needs to be a better story. Tears are meant to water and cool your skin because sadness makes you dry and hot? No, no. It needs to be better. Tears are little messengers. They are in a great hurry, and that’s why they travel in water bubbles, because those water bubbles can stream down the cheeks quickly. “But where are they going?” the little boy asks. “Into the hearts,” the messengers answer. Could still be better, but there was a little magic there.’
book 2/2, travelling, Russia