What is a story but a wish? In the absence of reality the imagination wanders. I travel through Arthurian England in a veil of mist. Above me I hear the strange bellows of a dragon. A shadow covers me and I search for an escape, finding only a staircase to the stars. I ascend into an Escher painting in which I’m really under the staircase, going down. Imagination forever doesn’t answer the question, “Why not?” but keeps asking.