When she was very tall she could see very clearly what people were doing and work out the pattern. But then at times she was small.
As uncomprehending as a pepper shaker, when she was small she had no arms. She was always hearing conversations that she didn’t wish to hear, some of them imaginary. She trembled when the wind blew or a small bird landed on the table. The checkered cloth threatened to swallow her up. It was best to check the boxes and dot your eyes and act on the signs.
Spank me, eat me, drink me.
Sometimes she simply lost track of what size she was and what was the remedy. She clung to the closest think and hoped this would stop the spinning.
The duchess was wearing a bra. What does that point to thought Alice AND what were those lacy bits on her head, around her neck and on her dress. Could Alice remember what the Duchess said about lace?
Lace was only there to remind you of underwear. Of the little morsels of flesh that you might get a glimpse of through the intricate holes. Only tarts wore holes. Whore lolls.
And the lack of lace could be just as easily suggestive of wearing no underwear at all!!!!
Lace, frilly, spilly, ogling, ohh laa laaing ooh la la lost my bra, don’t know where my knickers are.
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