The question we are all inclined to forget to ask, is not the final destination of a journey, for that answer will eventually become quite obvious to anyone but a total fool but rather the purpose that the entire peregrination serves, for ‘tis that answer that is the rub.
Many an odyssey, much as both Odysseus’s and Alices, are concentrated upon the singular and often entirely unique experiences garnered along the way, and quite naturally the characters such happenstances introduce to the participant and to we the fascinated observer.
The actual meander is quite plain, to Troy and the return to Ithaca, or perhaps just circuitously down a rabbit hole and back up to Oxfords spires, if not for the endless absurdities that make each step bizarrely unprogressive, rather quite stationary, sedentary, like attempting to walk through quicksand. Both it resolves are but pilgrimages of discovery, Odysseus’s to the reality of his relationship with his regal position, Alice’s the truth behind her seemingly harmless narrators innermost goal.
