“ An egg!
Why does an unlucky shrimp swim backwards?
To return to a time before he lost his luck!
I dream up new riddles and write them all down in my wild book.
My slow handwriting with its careful swirls and loops has almost grown beautiful.
Am I patient?
What has changed?
When I write riddles, the pen in my hand feels mysterious.
I feel as powerful as a girl in a fairy tale, a brave girl who climbs dangerous towers and sips water from magic wells.
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