She packed her seven versa­lia, put her initial into the belt and made hers­elf on the way. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Moun­ta­ins, she had a last view back on the skyline of her home­town Book­marks­grove, the head­line of Alpha­bet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane.

Far far away, behind the word moun­ta­ins, far from the count­ries Voka­lia and Conso­nan­tia, there live the blind texts. Sepa­ra­ted they live in Book­marks­grove right at the coast of the Seman­tics, a large language ocean. A small river named Duden flows by their place and supplies it with the neces­sary rege­li­alia. It is a para­di­se­ma­tic coun­try, in which roasted parts of senten­ces fly into your mouth. Even the all-powerful Poin­ting has no control about the blind texts it is an almost unor­tho­gra­phic life One day howe­ver a small line of blind text by the name of Lorem Ipsum deci­ded to leave for the far World of Grammar. The Big Oxmox advi­sed her not to do so, because there were thou­sands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semi­koli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen.