At first there was something, we don’t know what it was, or if we are circular and forever destroying and building the universe. We are the gods, we are the creator, but we are the destroyers. To question what is the meaning of life is to question what is life, what is the universe? You are here because we are lonely, we don’t know why we are here. Are we on a wheel? Or are we on a Mobius strip and we ourselves are repeating our own history over and over? If this is so, does anything start or end? Are we trying to place an object in the pages of a book? Can we do this without breaking one or both?
Wendy cried in the dirty corner of the stone hut that she had been tossed in once again. She had been cut off from her powers and her friends. Wendy felt imprisoned in her body in a way that she
