« The first question which may came into your mind is ‘How is all this possible?’, isn’t it ? » said Mrs Andreas without looking away while she was faced to the sky vastness.
« However there is a really simple explanation. »
We are neither made of flesh nor blood. Air doesn’t travel through our lungs, we do not have some. The ground we tread upon would be equally made of paint, our hair drawn with graphite, our souls based on somebody’s else.
Maybe we are just illusion. But whatever we are, we can stay alive.
To each word deciphered, to each turned page you made us moving into your mind.
Characters, word, passing thoughts, whatever we are. You are the yarn between us.
And imagination opens up to all possibilities.