You are still nothing to me, you are still no one. I am not denigrating you. I am only stating a fact. You do not exist. Therefore you are nothing to me, you are no one. But I have my stories to tell anyway, they are spoken into the void, as stories sometimes are. After all, is this not how we send ourselves to sleep, by telling our stories into the void, is this not where we spend our time in our sleep, in the storyful void? In last night's storyful void, I made an owl out of wire, I used wire cutters to cut off its too-long appendages. It was an owl dense with wire, it was the wire I use to hang my paintings, it was not a hollow owl. Now, there, there is an interesting pairing of words! Hollow owl. It is nearly impossible to say, as it should be, for no owl should be hollow, they are sacred animals, full of warning and protection. If you come across a hollow owl, you have come across a false thing. Perhaps you could set up your home there, you who are no one, you are nothing, you who need neither warning nor protection?