The little boat drifted forward.
The clear sky had already turned pale,
And echoes and memories had all vanished.
A river of shimmering golden light flowed from the horizon, adding a stroke of brightness to the pitch-black sky. In that river was an ancient wooden boat, unmanned, drifting downstream.
"Alice's phantom still lingered,
Beneath the sky, she swam and dallied,
Mesmerized by beloved tales, dwelling in a realm of exquisite oddities.
Years passed in dreams, and the sun set within those dreams."
A figure appeared on the wooden boat; it was a girl in a western dress. She held her cherished fairy tale book, reading on the small boat by the light of the setting sun.
