Some years ago, little niece Rosie would love to come round to our apartment for a visit to, as she said, "Stimbo and Sam's house". Now in order for this to work, you have to understand that each floor in the block has pretty much the same layout, two flats on one side, one of which faces the lift (or elevator if you must) and a stairwell off to the side. This arrangement is mirrored at the other side of the block and a connecting passage with two more flats (and rubbish chutes). Our flat on the fourth floor is one of those opposite the lift - two steps straight ahead as you exit the lift and you're at our door.
Rosie would express wide-eyed amazement that the front door of the ground floor apartment when she stepped into the lift was red, but it had changed to the blue (and later, warm purple) of our door when she stepped out. As she herself explained it, the lift was a magical device for changing the colour of the door.
I wish I still had that sort of mind.
Rosie would express wide-eyed amazement that the front door of the ground floor apartment when she stepped into the lift was red, but it had changed to the blue (and later, warm purple) of our door when she stepped out. As she herself explained it, the lift was a magical device for changing the colour of the door.
I wish I still had that sort of mind.
At the age of five, Skagra decided emphatically that God did not exist. This revelation tends to make most people in the universe who have it react in one of two ways - with relief or with despair. Only Skagra responded to it by thinking, 'Wait a second. That means there's a situation vacant.'
