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I want a "meaning" too, I said.
We will share one, replied as he was getting a stripe of green paper from the seller.
What is it? I asked.
It tells you where you go.
With sentences like these I feel like I am taking part in the Winnie the Pooh story. I have been intrigued by the strange philosophy concept going on in the book disguised under the silly tinkling of the characters. Domík is playing and I juggle with his involuntary and misleading abstract exclamations in my head.
I have my green "meaning" on my table. It has curly lines drawn with pencil, by the kid's hand.