He was a person. Where were the people?
Am I a person?
He could think now. It was easy, he was comfortable, it was his place.
"Can I help you?"
"Do you want something?"
He turns to the shop keeper. Was it milk he needed? He couldn't remember.
People needed milk because they were alive and so was he.
He wandered aimlessly. Moving, gliding almost, through the area. Where are all the people?
Did I miss something? Typical, I never get invited to the good things. Oh well...at least he could explore now.
He was thinking now - ideas, dreams and emotion swirling into creation.Was it time to create? Here and now?
Did he have his box? Where was it? Was it really his box that let him manufacture those places, those worlds that so many ephemeral people lived?
He starts to move with a purpose - a meaning. He needs his box, he has to create. He doesn't know what - but he will. Where is his box?
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