Down the rabbit hole I fall so small. A little golden rule won’t hold at all. “Curiouser and curiouser!” I say it low. The hall bends sideways, the clocks won’t show. Curiouser and curiouser! I shrink, I grow. Curiouser and curiouser! Where does the sense of things go? “Who in the world am I?” I ask the air. “I can’t explain myself” — but I am there. A grin stays hanging where the cat had been. A door, a keyhole, a thin glass in‑between. “Begin at the beginning,” the Queen would cry. But every rule in the room keeps changing size. Curiouser and curiouser! I shrink, I grow. Curiouser and curiouser! Where does the sense of things go? “Who in the world am I?” I ask the air. “I can’t explain myself” — but I am there. A trial, a tumble, a table of doubt. “Off with her head!” and the words come out. Yet I wake through the wonder — half‑fright, half‑smile — holding that strange little world for a while. Curiouser and curiouser! I shrink, I grow. Curiouser and curiouser! Where does the sense of things go? “Who in the world am I?” I ask the air. “I can’t explain myself” — but I am there.
