Cheshire Cat Monologue May 2026

Alice folded her arms. “I wasn’t aware we had an appointment.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d heard anything at all. Cheshire Cat Monologue

“Here’s what’s precise,” he said, and his voice was now the rustle of a billion unseen things. “You came looking for answers. But answers are just doors with ‘Exit’ signs painted over them. You don’t need to leave, Alice. You need to realize there was never a room.” Alice folded her arms

Alice found him on a branch of the old Twistwood Tree, which grew in impossible directions—some limbs pointing down into the earth, others curling into their own knots like thoughts trying to escape. “You came looking for answers

The Cat vanished. Then, from her left ear: “You think you’re falling.” From her right: “You’ve been standing still the whole time.” His face reassembled in front of her nose, upside down. “Wonderland isn’t a place you visit, Alice. It’s the shape your sanity makes when it’s tired of being a square.”

Alice sat on a toadstool that squeaked politely. “Everyone’s angry today. The Red Queen wanted my head for using the wrong fork. At breakfast.”