So, I go into this space towards to what I can see.

Nobody tries to stop me or to say anything.

In the middle of the circle, there is a big stone.

And, in the stone, there is a sword.

For me…

I’m not sure but…

I think…

It’s Excalibur. 

The closer I get, the more I realise it’s not too high.

Maybe they tried to draw the sword from the stone –

– the small group of people who was moaning.

Maybe other people –

– I mean, people who are tall –

– they tried too and they succeeded in.

It makes sense, because they are not trying and they are not paying any attention so…

And maybe that’s why they are tall.

Maybe if I pull the sword out of the stone, I will be tall.

I try to take the sword.

It’s not too high but it’s too high for me, for taking the sword.

I raise my arms, I stand on tiptoes but it’s not enough.

I’m too short.

I try again,

again,

again,

and again,

and again.

I’m too short and I start to cry because …

… I fell I just need to be few centimetres taller …

… so if I had any shoes maybe I could be about one …

… or two centimetres taller and it could be fine.

And I continue to cry.

And if I had a nice dress or if I were pretty,

maybe someone could help me.

I stop crying but…

Nobody sees me.

So I keep trying.

But I am too short.

I cry.

I try.

I cry.

I try something else.

I get close.

I take the blade.

I’m tall enough.

I grip the blade but …

… I can’t pull the sword out of the stone …

… and it’s normal because you don’t take and hold …

… the Sword of Kings properly.

Never mind.

I can just do that.

I grip the blade so much …

… and my hands are killing me but I keep gripping…

To be continued…