Life On Planet Alice

You move in your own orbit, all sighs and fragile baby sleep, unimpressed by the wail of police sirens whisking blank-faced diplomats off to meetings at the UN, or by the spectacle of Barbara Walters strolling past you in Central Park, bedecked in oversized sunglasses.

On Planet Alice, sirens are the sweet lullabies that put you to sleep and your parents are glittering cinema kings and queens, come down from the silver screen especially to make you smile.