MemoryThe cathedral's five-hundredth anniversary had been widely publicised, and drawn even more tourists than usual to town, including Nico. She appreciated visiting new-to-her places in general, and in that particular moment enjoyed the view from a street café to the birthday building. It seemed strangely familiar but slightly off, but then, she had seen other a lot of pictures both of this one and other churches in similar styles.
The thought, 'The ground used to be lower when it was built, that's why it looks different now' at first made no sense, but looking at that from different angles, the idea seemed to be that she had witnessed at least part of the building process firsthand. Technically, in her case, it was possible, but had she really been in this world that long? It didn't feel like it. On top of that, she had been certain this was her first visit in this country, let alone town. Might well be the little thought was just a particularly imaginative déjà vu.
At Windows, on RooftopsThe girl had been pouring her heart out to the cat for a week when her mother found out.
"Don't touch that useless beast, it has fleas!"
"No, he doesn't! And he's not useless, he'll find Daddy, he said!"
Her mother sighed. "Your Daddy is gone and won't come back, no matter how much you wish it. And cats can't understand what you say, let alone talk."
The girl took refuge in sullen silence, and her mother shooed the cat out of the window.
The small ginger tom met up with a bigger grey cat who had been waiting nearby. Instead of a greeting, he said, "My, humans are so silly. She didn't even think to ask me if I could talk."
"The girl believing your promises isn't exactly clever, either."
"Well, no." He stretched. "I have better things to do than chasing some guy. Nothing, for example."
Dreaming the World BetterThe angels had been standing guard forever, or so I thought before I knew what a sculptor was. As far as I was concerned, they were not algae-encrusted pieces of hewn stone, but magical protectors, making sure the dead rested well, and the living did not get hurt in dreams. I do not know where that idea came from.
By the time vandals smashed one of the pair, I knew better.
And yet, looking at the shards, I had another idea out of the blue. It woke up. It left the broken pieces, like an eggshell, and flew home.