Quel luogo in cui sai che non potrai restare, ma in cui devi andare lo stesso. Come i libri.
At the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, “Speak in French when you can’t think of the English for a thing – turn out your toes as you walk – and remember who you are!”
“I’m seven and a half exactly.”
“You needn’t say ‘exactually,'” the Queen remarked: “I can believe it without that. Now I’ll give you something to believe. I’m just one hundred and one, five months and a day.”
“I can’t believe that!” said Alice.
“Can’t you?” the Queen said in a pitying tone. “Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes.”
Alice laughed. “There’s no use trying,” she said: “one can’t believe impossible things.”
“I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossibile things before breakfast. There goes the shawl again!”
Carroll Lewis, Through the Looking-Glass
Lo spaesamento è il modo migliore di conoscersi. (cit.)