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Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and
of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister
was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use
of a book,' thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?'
So she was considering, in her own mind (as well as she could, for the day made
her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain
would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly
a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.
On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took
her turn at suicide-it was Mary this time, and sleeping
pills, like Therese-the two paramedics arrived
at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer
was, and the gas owen, and the beam in the basement
from which it was possible to tie a rope. They got out
of the EMS truck, as usual moving much too slowly
in our opinion, and the fat one said under his breath,
"This ain't TV, folks, this is how fast we go." He was
carrying the heavy respirator and cardiac unit past
the bushes that had grown monstrous and over the
erupting lawn, tame and immaculate thirteen months
earlier when the trouble began.
