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The universe of Alec was the desert. In the morning, he snorted, clumsy, and frolicking in the sand laid on the ground as far as the eye could see. Pointing it sometimes with the end of the truffle, he aimed at the sun by narrowing his eyes. Under the new cushions of his legs, he felt the heat of each grain. But Alec had a dream ...
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- His mother, every evening, read a book to him in the coolness of his burrow. And as Christmas approached, in albums that told him about Santa Claus, he saw pages unfamiliar with unknown images. What's that, Mom? he asked each time, holding out his leg. "Snow, my darling." "What is it?" "Cold white that falls from the clouds."
- Fascinated, Alec the fennec contemplated, pensively, these immaculate stretches, the long-bearded firs, the carrot-nosed gentlemen presenting their brooms like a rifle ...
- And especially, especially, one image in particular: that of an army of elves fighting in a great battle of snowballs.
- The next day, he took sand in the hollow of his legs and was saddened to be able to give it any other shape than that of a thin net that returned to the dune.
- So Alec wrote his letter to Santa Claus. And he asked for snow as a gift, snow everywhere, a snowstorm on the desert. And he posted his letter, convinced that he had no hope of being heard.
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