I suppose even the busiest people find themselves alone at times—walking to their car, opening a door, taking out the trash—and they glimpse an honest reflection of themselves—transitory, insignificant, unprotected—before rushing to hide beneath responsibilities, overcoats, and routines.
My neck hurts, said Blurtso, trying to turn his head and feeling a pain spear his shoulder. Maybe if I do some exercise it will feel much better, maybe if I do what I did when I was young. And off he went, to do what he did when he was young. Oh no! said Blurtso. Now I can’t move my back! he said, after he had done what he did when he was young.
What a colorful patch of flowers, said Blurtso, skipping across the field—red, yellow, blue, purple, yellow, red—and what a sweet spectrum of smells. Achoo!! he said, and sneezed as he said. Achoo!! Achoo!! Achoo!! he said between sniffle and wheeze. How silly to forget, said Blurtso, that the springtime makes me sneeze!