The Past Was Like A Bad Dream;

Badger Hates Society, And Invitations, And Dinner, And All That Sort Of Thing.

A Careful Inspection Showed Them That, Even If They Succeeded In Righting It By Themselves, The Cart Would Travel No Longer. The Axles Were In A Hopeless State, And The Missing Wheel Was Shattered Into Pieces.

An Errant May-fly Swerved Unsteadily Athwart The Current In The Intoxicated Fashion Affected By Young Bloods Of May-flies Seeing Life. A Swirl Of Water And A 'cloop!' And The May-fly Was Visible No More

All This He Saw, For One Moment Breathless And Intense, Vivid On The Morning Sky; And Still, As He Looked, He Lived; And Still, As He Lived, He Wondered.

There Seemed To Be No End To This Wood, And No Beginning, And No Difference In It, And, Worse Of All, No Way Out