That was another interesting tour to Hancock again. As an instinct, I stepped straight upward as usual to the Egyptian floor. I saw it. It was in pretty much the same size as in the imaginary pictures that I had in mind by researching through websites and books these months.
A lovely couple that I think they were British, were standing right next to it and playing with their tries to translate their alphabetical names into hieroglyphs. They did not even choked on their response, when I asked them whether this Rosetta stone is the real one or not, by saying that “yeah, this is the real one!”.
So the Rosetta Stone is in Hancock, not British Museum! I was shocked! Everything I did for the research from the beginning was all wrong! I failed!
I hated to be cheated by written letters. Words for me are more important than anything else. So the only solution was to find a damn curator and gave it one more chance for the verbal communication.
“You are right. The real stone is in British Museum. This is just the reproduction.”, he said.
Alrighty. I was calmed and started whispering to myself that “well, sometimes denying reality is also a part of your research too”.