While I was away, I had a dream.
In that dream, something had been created. It was a book, or a painting. It had been assembled inside of a building by a team of Artists, and left in the lobby.
The art took the form of a lifeless monster.
It was an impressive piece, in size and complexity, but no one could figure out how to get it out of the building without waking it--or destroying it.
That was the first night.
I had great, but groggy days as I adjusted to the new time, and at night I stayed up wishing for sleep, and more wonderful dreams.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Back from outer space.
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1 comment:
Still a short story worth reading. And one that will make Murakami smile and nod.
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