June pulled herself off a fine tooth comb a little while before I jumped out of my hair brush bed. I discovered her downstairs trying a dress on a giant shop mannequin (it had grown to over fifty foot tall after finding a glowing orb during the night). I took an express train to my studio, my energy coming along later on the local freight and she went to town holding her hair as if it was a cornfield under the imminent threat of harvesting. She came home after a prolonged shop to form a missing continent on my revised map of the World. I dedicated my thoughts to all the lost inhabitants of Atlantis and then filled the space between the cistern and the sink with photographs of big cats wearing clothes made from human skin. I never answered the telephone as I knew it was a wrong number.