A Forest of Stars-Gatherer of the Pure

He’s a man of the world, but his is a small world, being a world whirled and whipped inside a filth caked skull. All a dalliance in delusion, all dreamed down in narcotic seclusion, he peeps all askance through all and sundry; three dimension unreality his fourth dimension play-day. All eternity a rainy Sunday. He, a builder of worlds in dreams. He, a destroyer of worlds in dreams.