On a morning rather dreary I was aimlessly ambling hurriedly towards my desired destination (I can't, however, recall exactly what that destination might have been, except that it was the establishment at which I work, two blocks South from where I was at present, which in itself was confusing enough as there are so many directions, more than are countable, so how could I really be sure I was travelling in the right one? No, there was no way to be sure, besides which that would have been impossible as there were the most inconsiderate, ugly buildings hulking in the way with absolutely no regard for the pitiful being trying to navigate it's way about them and not entirely succeeding, which is and was highly stressful and taking up the majority of my concentration) and as I usually do, although I abhor the practice itself, I was looking at the ground preceding my feet, not so immediate that I seemed apologetic, for what I'm not sure, or submissive in any way, I would never stoop to such an awful low; but as I was saying, I was heading towards this now forgotten destination of mine, ignoring the passing drunkard brutes arguing over who got to stick a knife into the belly that belonged to the black fella around the corner, for busting the ribs of a white fella, who was married to the black fella's wife, who was pregnant with God only knows' foetus, hoping this baby wasn't going to be the end of her seeing it was her fifth, all by different fathers mind you, one of them her brother (now deceased having been murdered by his own cousin's daughter for leering at her in a manner she had no liking for, as she had heard all sorts of stories pertaining to this particular man and found herself rather repulsed because he was, after all, related to her, far too closely for her liking, yet she still found herself excited by the thoughts that might have been running through his mind at that very moment and, unable to live with this desire she was faced with that was inherently wrong, as she knew, she took it upon herself to rid herself of the offending feelings by disposing of the man from which they were originating, and killing this frightful man herself, for he was a bit carbuncular for her tastes anyway!), and she was desperately hoping to have the problematic child terminated before it had the chance to unknowingly be the cause of any unnecessary violence, as opposed to necessary violence, which I would suppose is the violence occurring every day, so of course any unnecessary violence would be deemed necessary by today's society, rendering the need for an abortion obsolete, however this mother had no knowledge of that, being the simple woman she was which is entirely too obvious by the fact that she was married to two separate men who failed to see that fighting between themselves was rather absurd because if anyone was at fault, t'would be their wife, which she repetitively stated to them both, this helped not in the slightest as they would have continued their argument had they listened to her or not, not for want of any excuse at all, being the drunken brutes that they were.  So all this I was completely ignoring, watching the ground pass under my feet, paying particular attention to the pattern of the lay of the bricks spotted with old chewing gum and littered with squashed cigarette butts, when to my attention came a metal grate, set into the concrete, who's purpose was to let the floodwater flow to the underground; or so it seemed, as I, unlike anyone else, was certain of the fact that this inconspicuous metal grate was actually a doorway to the world of the fae, how I was so sure of this I was, and still am, unaware, but the fact at the time was absolutely indisputible to me.  This knowledge saddened me to an immeasurable degree, as it used to be that such portals to faerieland were moonlight dappled mushroom rings in forests, or on grassy knolls with the doorknob disguised as an oversized toadstool, a certain delight to be for the ignorant child who gamboled red-cheeked up the hill to pluck this toadstool, only to have a magical doorway opened to him with endless possibilities as to where it might lead.  This doorway I now stood before, however, was trampled and ignored each and every day by countless, unaware stereotypes oblivious to all but their own profound thoughts: harried business people (in expensive suits!) late for appointments, frantic mothers giving chase to their gleeful toddlers, punk adolescents speeding past on their skateboards; how long had it been since someone had actually found one of these mystical windows, whether stumbling across it by accident or investigating it's surroundings with curiosity piqued?  Is it that they are actually less common today than they were when coming across such a thing was a regular occurance, or that people have lost the time, the will, the belief to actually look?

Is it true then, that the nymphs who once possessed the world, are now nothing but prostitutes?

<')))><