Here was a sharp muzzle that jabbed a flustered Donald again and again, sending him quacking on cue. Here was a tangle of limbs, frozen in midair like a paused cartoon.
Everywhere were faces, peering out as if asking to be liked or disliked, applauded or ignored.
It was a whole parade of nonsense, as endless as it was absurd.
“How very curious!” Alice murmured. “This must be what a feed is called—a pool that feeds itself, over and over, till there’s nothing left but bubbles!”
Alice looked around at the endless scroll of squabbles and chatter. She felt, in a queer way, proud that it had all sprung from her tears—but the pride sat uneasily. For if the nonsense was hers, then so too were the jabbing muzzle, the suspended violence, the quarrels, the boasting, and the endless noise.
And she wondered, with a small frown that did not suit her face: is it truly a good thing, to have such a pool at all?
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