The eyes of the inquisitive children hit them all at once with a piercing collective ignorance that seemed to bring its own desolate breeze. He was an Alien among them now. "What is a thing?" He thought. And Then another thought answered "A thing is something that can be burned. So... all things... can be burned."
He was having difficulty with this realization. For what was the point of anything if everything can be burned? And all the classroom seemed to turn black before his eyes; as black as their former bedroom- and their former bunk bed. and their parraceets, 'Potato and Sweet Potato'-- he couldn't finish the thought and began tearfully fidgeting.
Yea, twas a new blackening and burnable world. And nothing she said would make anything alright again. "How about a different class today, Alfonso... just for you and Carl- Would you like to draw... a Ship?" And with that last miraculous word and the article before it- he heard seagulls! 'A Ship!' The creak of the deck in the cool oceanic air! 'A Ship!' Mariners calling him to the starboard. It was a great voyage ahead: The Voyage for to come back to the World. And that breeze- was it so desolate? Or was it perhaps a wind returning to his sails?