once upon a time there was a boy. he had a magick idea, which he successfully drew in the pages of his 2nd grade school workbook. it was fantastic. revolutionary. involving both machines and biology, man and animal. additionally, the concrete and the metaphysical. he was suppossed to be drawing something about the virgin mary, as many around him seemed imprisoned by this spell, but it felt more honest and realistic to draw talking animals, a city in space where everyone was fed, taken care of, listened to and equal. he also drew swords, a laser, ninjas, a fantastic castle in the middle of a swamp where tchaikovsky lived, dark shadow beings, helpful small green energy creatures, ghosts. there were lots of ghosts. it was never violent there. odd, since he drew swords. somehow, the swords only real power was the capability to change the human heart. when struck with this object, both ill intent and evil were gone. he sang songs to dogs and would cross the street while walking so as not to upset feeding birds. dogs seemed to understand him, the most of all. some say this boy still exists, on the edge of the city, in a copse of willows, at dawn or dusk, in the pacifying ether of the pre and post dream. i see him there. i am trying to mouth his name.