There is only One World.

There was a time when I remembered the exact number of countries in the world, the number of continents, number of flags. But I don't anymore, because I'll never be able to ask "How many countries are there in your world?"
When I was thinking about history one day, turning over like a precious gem the big facts of humanity, I found myself thinking, "My world has seen two world wars. Is that too many? How do we measure up to-" I knew, before I even finished my thought-sentence that it was ludicrous. A year later, as I sat in the sitting room of a nice Ipswich home, a little eight year old girl with blonde hair, blue-grey eyes who said "chit-tens" instead of "chickens" snuggled in my Asian lap and asked sleepily, "Charmaine, what's it like in your world? Is your world nice?" I cried.