CJ:
There are, in the folds of pages and painted onto canvas, fictions made reality. Brought to life.
They are there, waiting for us- breathless, on edge.
They sleep with one eye open, and whisper to each other from across the room.
Fictions made real-fictions.
Fictions that outgrow their confines on the page- outgrow their creators.
Fictions that bulge and pronounce themselves alive.
Alive in such a way that we cannot be- timeless.
Alive and tremulous, beating, wavering in the heat as they approach.
Alive before us. Alive with us, in us and around us.
In this way, we become their caretakers-
And they, our guardians.
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