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“It’s all very well,” muttered the red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse), as she continued to stare at the wonderful vista for a while, then turned to little Moxie, and said, “it’s not real, is it… there’s no ocean by the roof top garden, it can’t be that.”

“Aha, you’re right,” as Moxie began to do a couple of pirouettes, then said: “I’ll show you another place instead; we’ll go back to the usual dumbwaiter, I just need to find a particular vestibule, and then we’ll walk to a larger room, it’s called The Blue Room.”

So, la Raconteuse did as she was told, although she was almost desperate to get her big bag back, since she needed to write all these strange things down.

“Here we are, we’ve made it,” grinned Moxie, “you’re going to like this immensely… come on, you can look at all these excellent objects and even people and animals; and I’m going to run a quick victory lap to show how happy I am.”

It was alluring and also weird – there were three fat ladies who would dance with a moment’s notice, lifting up their thunder thighs and doing their can-can several times; then further over la Raconteuse saw a huge snake, and said, “wow, that looks dangerous?” – “nah, that’s Daisy,” grinned Moxie, “she’s a pussy cat, and not venomous, by the way.”

“All very interesting,” said la Raconteuse to Moxie, “but I really want to go back to Room 215, and kind of now.”

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