I command a crew. A dog and a postbox are my subordinates. They look at the mess with awe. Many mysteries await. Who can tell what will happen in the next moment? The next curve or flick of circumstance. No-one (except the rollercoaster designers).
I shuffle to the side. The land stretches before me. Pinpoints of castles rear from the rocky chasms below me. The roof sways. Balloon shakes and dives like a bramble that�s fallen of the bridge and is caught in a gust of wind. The postbox is there. I stumble to my knees and try and work out a plan. Unfortunately I sat in my own poo. Which is ironic as it�s where it came from. A homecoming.
As I gaze along the landscape in wonder a tule dove crashes nearby.
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