Another very early day and I left the house some time before the fusilier had loaded a bowl of grapes in his smaller than normal musket. I caught a basking narwhal to the Arctic tundra and sat with a snow god in his iceberg bungalow. He talked of people with spectacles pinned to their chests and how the man across the road had a tube train running up the left leg of his jeans; I didn’t like to ask what happened in the right but the lady next door said she had heard huskies. When it was time to go I opened the back door and then went out the front. The bus was on time and driven by a man with violin bows for fingers, I waved my ticket like a music score and the old lady in the front seat blew up a paper bag and then popped it, claiming it was just like her life.