is not a pen, paper, book, idea, plot, character or thought. Those things, when joined, are blood, meat, mead. They warm the soul, but not cold toes on a crisp autumn morning. Creativity fills holes and unmasks wounds. It starts an emotional and intellectual chain-reaction that flies around the world, unbound. Limitless. Yet, feeling a wet nose at the back of the knee is a thousand and fifteen times better than reading about a wet nose at the back of the knee. This is a fact.

Duncan playing dead.