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Candles and flames dance with sheep of the green lands of farms where playing card jokers play their flutes drums and with their walking sticks when cranes fly with one leg stretched out like a fishing rod keeping jumping fish in their thoughts thinking about dolphins that they have never seen but only heard or read about in the thick volumes books borrowed from the libraries of midnight that have their doors open right next to the twinkling stars in the sky where bark dogs drinking coffee in palm-sized porcelain bowls that roll and make sounds 733 Hz frequency vibrating with tuning forks held in the hands of piano-playing domesticated cats of Turkey prone to making many a mistake of catching a rat in the middle of a desert in the middle of the night of black sand snake like ripples on the sand with rattles howling wind and bowling archers who have forgotten their bows and vows and cows but the bulls have been pulling their carts carrying pails of water to the tops of the hills watching films in their hand-held white screens protecting the clouds and silver nitrate not from cool breeze winds just before it starts to rain a rain of six pence and seven fence driving a Benz down the roads where would have run Cinderella had she been alive in the middle of these strange times where everyone wears a glass shoe and princes wear their crows on their face and almost every face is invisible while strands of gray hair appear reappear and disappear in the shifting changing light of this early evening filled to the brim with thick hot soup for the thick at heart