Some say they are just a myth... others believe that they were once a person just as you or I, but are now made almost entirely of bits of antique taxidermy and clockwork. Others argue that they are some sort of changeling trapped in the wrong dimension, or perhaps a top secret experiment by our own government, gone terribly wrong. It is likely we may never know for sure.

     One thing that is certain, is that when the moon is full and the wind blows just so, and the crickets in the reeds chirp just at the very same time that someone on a third level flat drops and breaks an old typewriter quite by accident...

Those are the times that the packages appear.

     They come wrapped in old crinkled ads for hand knitted wool stockings, tied with bits of ribbon and string found lining birds nests, and long silken hairs from the heads of children stolen by gypsies. One was hollow and covered completely in ornate keyholes, yet could not be seen through, and still another floated just a bit off the ground and emitted a strange light, yet when immersed in water (don't dare ask why or how this occurred), it sank immediately like a broken heart.

     As the whereabouts or even existence of this creator are in question, I for one believe they are someplace here among us, perhaps perched in an old clock tower keeping a chart of how many times a week we make silly faces whilst tripping over inanimate objects, and cross referencing it with a chart of how many times a day cats make silly faces whilst we trip over them; or tiptoeing across the surface of a pond stealing fireflies to make into ink for writing glowing reviews of boring plays. Some say they catch fleeting glimpses of her in night gardens telling secrets to frogs, or down the ends of paths that don't go any place...

     As the packages keep coming, I for one must be inclined to believe that they are still out there someplace, breathing life into very small and strange things. I will continue to document the packages on these pages, in hopes that someday they may have some scientific purpose...

     I have found a set of plans intending to build some great machine, in which these creations are to be used as cogs. From my studies I have concluded this machines purpose appears to be to turn the planet on its axis just a fraction of a degree, so that half of the worlds scraped knees turn into something more amiable.

Perhaps bunnies.

Your humble Virtuoso,