Two roads in the woods. Does our goat-girl take the one less travelled? Will she regret it if she does? But that’s for far, far down the path; right now she’s full of optimism and hope. Those hooves might protect her from a low strike by that snake, if it’s poisonous?
Light tree, dark tree. She steps between them. Do they grow at angles or do they part for her touch? And what’s she leaving behind? What’s she carrying in her purse that has her so confident?
She might not know that the clip-clop of boots has given way to the clip-clop of hooves. Strange things move in the woods, and she may be becoming one herself. She’s shrouded the darkness of the Ace in her gleaming white skin, but some parts still poke out…
Choices; changes. Odd transformations.
In the forest of forgetfulness, we are all as nameless as Alice. But even if she stepped from that mist – or wall – behind her this very instant, she’s to be defined by her choices. Each path changes her, each choice of way part of the solution to the particular instance of a recursive equation expressed in multidimensional space. Really, if she’s anything, maybe she’s just a bit of math working itself out, inexoriably changing as it works its way through the entirety of its possibility space.
So try to be the instance that finds the best way out of its algorithmic domain. Own your change and ride it.