Once I dreamed of a place, where wondrous beings of other worlds did mingle and their coin for trade was universal- a story. I sat in the market place nursing a drink and overheard the following:

“We come from weird places, strange and distant, you and I. Places so far away that distance itself becomes meaningless. So it is with humility, when I say that you are not stranger than I, only different. We come here to share with each other and this story seems to suit you like a song. It clings to you like a perfume. You hear the words and melodies, it tickles you, caresses and ultimately- seduces you. It shares itself with you in a way that it never will with me. It does not call to me, and likely used me as a host to pass it to you. In that way it is like a cunning parasite but it is not so base as that. Can you see the colors- the vague, indistinct shapes coming into focus? Consider them the beautiful echoes of the future and embrace them. They are yours.”

And they were mine too.

They could be yours.