It is said that the world was once Green. That water fell from the skies like the easy tears of children. Imagine. The brown earth was covered in a carpet of emerald threads, which drank this water, whispered in the wind and danced happily in the breeze. From it sprouted tall and bright colored orbs - as high as the sky and as bright as a sun itself. It makes me painful happy to imagine the world like that. Magda says that I need to wake up and live in the real world - the way it is now. Magda has the imagination of a cave rat.


Is there alliteration in this story?​