I was staring at a goat as it embraced the smooth lulling hills, its lithe back waved like a stone snake - motionless but fluid. The goat existed only on two dimensions, but its surface existed on three. Thousands of details were absent from the animal; all that was apparent were the mere outer lines of the animal, as if a hollow silhouette, pupilless, peering at me from across the counter.

Indeed, the scale of this goat did not exceed the length of my own hand. It was standing not more than two and a half feet away from me. Directly above it was a tartan-patterned awning, shading the animal's wrinkled ears and crooked horns. Though it was impossible to tell for sure, since the animal, as I said, had no pupils, it seemed to be staring at either of two things: myself, or a giant orange fish, who had camouflaged itself within a bright stream of colours, purple and yellow and red, and had remained there, on the left-hand of the goat, without the slightest twitch. The fish wasn't in fact a giant, but speaking comparatively, it did exceed the goat by nearly three inches. I reached out to grasp the fish; it was dead. Its skin was soft and dry like animal hide, its eyes were flat and shiny, and its head was wrapped in cord.

Suddenly the fish emitted a shrill, piercing scream, one solid tone, which then became a song. I reached into its mouth and removed a black object with rounded corners and smooth sides, which I soon learned was the source of the strange melody. I noticed it was not just one solid object, but it was split in half vertically; two equal pieces, folded onto each other and connected with an indistinct hinge. I opened it like a book, and it began speaking to me.

At once I popped it back into the fishbelly, unbound the cord from its head, and slung it over my shoulder. The streaming colours hung from a woven satchel. The goat, an illustration on a sheet of fabric, and the awning, a small pocket casing a little matching notebook, were both sewn onto a strapped pack with other patterns. I snatched the satchel, hung it on my shoulder, and the pack, and threw it onto my back, fastening the straps onto my shoulders. After a final check, I switched off the lights and travelled out the door. The end of this adventure... the beginning of the next.