Atilla was sad. Nothing was happening. He had waited and waited. But no doing. Life wasn't all grapes and biscuits. Oh well.
He wondered what Cousin Qwerty was doing. He sighed. Leaving Brisbane was hard. Getting to the airport was easy enough. Except for waking up early in the morning. It was the emotional aspect he had a hard time with.
He was already missing Auntie M-, Uncle B-, Cousin Qwerty, Cousin Amy. On the other hand it would be very nice to play with his own toys again. He was sure they missed him.
Atilla didn't think very highly of the airline food. He became glummer. Nothing was happening. There was a very low chance of not returning home.
"Everything is fine," Mum said soothingly. For the second ninth time. He humoured her, and smiled innocently.
Dad backed her up. "See? There's nothing to worry about," he said distractedly.
Atilla re-iterated the hypothesis he concluded last year: Adults are strange.
Winding Back The Hands Of History’s Clock.
-
*Holding On To The Present: The moment a political movement arises that
attacks the whole idea of social progress, and announces its intention to
wind bac...
1 day ago
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