The Puppeteer's diary ~ 38 ~
They're ridiculous. Tangling the threads, interlacing, pulling with all their strength, hiding. They hope I won't notice, hope to tear off the gossamers stretching to me. The puppet has dug the sap again. For crying out loud! There are no counts of Monte Cristo among you, are you so silly indeed? You believe that I won't notice? You consider seriously, that the jailers haven't taken into account this experience?
