1st October 2021

The Caterpillar is a figure most familiar, as he reclines atop his sacred toadstool surrounded by a physically divisive space. He feels consummate in his superiority, having accomplished the fulfillment of all purposes, to be eternally adulterated in a wholly illusory realm.

We perceive his person as an ancient scholarly eccentric, mysteriously arrested in physical transformation from crawling child to fleet adult most likely by the constant ingestion of intoxicating panaceas. In modern parlance the larva could quite easily be expressed as either male or female, but Victorian prejudices within Alices misadventures still prevail.

The word caterpillar is derived from the old French ‘chatepelous’, literally ‘hairy cat’, an interesting connecter with that other speaker of vagary, the Cheshire cat, another resident of a fanciful and sacrosanct sphere.

Conversation with the addled recluse in circuitous, travelling no further than the predisposed whims of the sybaritic, involving as little real of imagined labor as can be perceived. Life is simply visualization, without practical parameters to keep ideas or concepts within the bounds of possibility of practicality.

In their conversations Alice appears to represent the quizzical voice of reason, a viewpoint that really has no relevance in the constant absurdity that is Wonderland.  We all easily commiserate our heroines situation, all having at some stage in our experience having been confronted by that most irritating and uncontradictable of creatures the avid believer in their own narrative, the changeling that never quite reaches maturity, whom finds the wonderment of transformation far more appealing than any possible final result, the eternal adolescent, without restrictive past or oppressive future to curb them.

To my fault I am inclined to indulge the dreamers, their illusions, fantasies, sharing their dissolution when time passes and reality remains static and disobliging, spoiling aspirations with unapologetic verisimilitude.

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