The day he got the news he was dreaming about the City. He was thinking about the World. He could see it so clearly. It seemed so real.
That day, he couldn't help but notice all the people. They were spotted in the sun and shade; they were moving fast. Or slow. He loved them all. He loved to see it. He liked the textures. They were all mixed up. The leaves, it seemed, were just about to fall. It was not too cool. It was not too hot. Just right.
That day, street musicians were out in force. They sounded good. Sweet as. That's what they say in other places that he'd been. He had never heard it here.
And all that food. And the coffee. He must have dreamed it all up. He was thinking about the World. He remembered when there was nothing there. And now: all this!!
In the persistence of our memories, and by what we do
These dreams we have
They all come true