“So I think we can make a home here, Sepisexton. Get away from it all, talk about the tomorrows and yesterdays to no end. Dreams we’re talking about here my love. And no Gray Man around to erase the memories. He doesn’t come into The Natural World.”
“So I’ve heard.” She takes another bite of her ant beignet and mulls over possibilities. Amos T. Sandman points in the distance, over the waterfall.
“See those fish floating over there. Plenty more where they came from. I tested it yesterday. You can just go up to them and grab them with your bare hands and then another one spawns. Fish spawns — get it? I was running back here to tell you no tackle was needed. This isn’t football or even angling — no sport to it atall. Free food!”
Wheeler, currently playing the role of Sepisexton to Baker’s Sandman, took the inept humor in stride. Yesterday they had found the North, this place where Okama Majo came from, at least in comparison to St. Dennis (more on that soon). He said he sucked at a video racing game while living there and thus made his own where the walls don’t matter and there’s no shooting allowed, no target whatsoever to the game. A game about nothing. But at the same time: everything. Here we have the answers we needed. We’ll continue photo-novel 42 into its section 05 while keeping this in mind.
“Let’s go up beyond the waterfall to the sunken ship to end again,” requests Wheeler, last piece of beignet in her mouth, somewhat muffling the request. Ants, thinks Sandman to this. Sepisexton got rid of the last to save him from becoming fused superhero Santman forever and ever, a walking talking copyright violation. She’ll always be golden in his book for this.
Time for the dreamer to awaken.
Sunklands 