Once I heard a tale of a faraway place from long, long ago. I wandered across many foreign lands in search of it, to see it for myself. Though I grew cold and weary, at last, at the base of a high hill, a narrow gate opened as I approached.
I came upon a berry bush and, hungry from the long journey, ate a handful. They were wet from the fog that shrouded everything about me, and sweet. Before long, I began to feel rather queer.
Up and up a winding path I went, past buildings that loomed high and seemed to lean in across the path, toward me.
Upon reaching the top of the hill, indeed I saw what had been foretold. A vast village of miniature houses, fairies' homes, as far as I could see.
On I went, deeper into the maze of paths, now not sure how I came in nor how I would get out. Thereupon I stopped in my tracks, for before me stood the giants of whom I'd heard, turned to stone for all eternity. So tall were they that I had to climb a tower just to see them.
I walked on a little further & by now felt so very sleepy. In a small hollow I saw a baby, also turned to stone. She seemed to invite me close with a sweet everlasting smile, so I curled up near her & fell asleep, dreaming about places that are one thing but seem like another.
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