Napoleon, happy as ever to let Illya do all the driving, lay back and enjoyed the Texas hill country they were passing through. “There’s no place like home, and I’ll be glad to get back,” he said, “but this is pretty nice. Takes your mind off things.”
It was the driving not the landscape that took Illya’s mind off his bruises. They were heading for San Antonio Airport to fly back to New York and he had decided to go across country. He looked around and agreed it was very attractive.
They came to a very small town whose sign, painted on wire in a frame and standing in unkempt grass by the road, was both welcoming and slightly threatening – as if they expected people not to keep it nice.
“Remember that weird place, Nowhere?” said Illya.
“How could I forget?”
“Well, here’s another. Why do they call real places by names that make them disappear?”
“Utopia means nice place – what are you talking about?”
“Not spelled like that, it doesn’t. Capital U-topia means ‘no place’. It needs an E in front of it to mean nice place.”
“You going to tell them, or shall I?”
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Date: 2018-06-25 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-06-25 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-06-25 06:17 pm (UTC)Place names always fascinate me. There's a village not far from me called 'No Place'.
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Date: 2018-06-25 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-06-25 08:53 pm (UTC)https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/No_Place
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Date: 2018-06-25 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-06-25 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-06-26 05:59 am (UTC)