The old lizard talks to cutouts from old magazines. She sets out chocolate for the children and biscuits for that girl in the house. She has long elaborate conversations with them. She won’t let anyone sit on the armchair where the children are sleeping. Made of paper, the children smile contentedly from under the blanket she carefully draped over them. That girl in the house is more elusive and has yet to eat the biscuits, but I’m sure she’s a lovely presence. It all reminds me a bit of children playing with dolls and believing they’re alive, which holds an undeniable element of enchantment. As far as I’m concerned, an imaginary world is a good place for an old lizard to roam. I myself invented a girl too. A ghost from the 1920s.
I wasn’t having too much fun with my current manuscript, but perhaps the lizard’s commitment to her imaginary friends is contagious, for today I had the best writing day in a long time. The story is coming together and showing me what’s beautiful and magical about it.
