There are universes so small there might be one in your pocket roiling among loose change and lint. I visited one once or twice. Maybe forty feet in volume infinitesimal and unknowable from outside if there was an outside. But in that bubble of otherplace exotime a single smooth wall lined with ears to witness the bang of creation stoking hearts with the furnaces of stars and eyes wide as galaxies faced the center where the Man in the Mouse-Skin Jerkin weaved unyielding Real to fill that tiny void that tapestry hemmed with thread spun from two pipes at his lips. He filled the sphere with kindly dragons and wicked heroes and maidens wise in sorrow and chests that issued moons and fog and glories and tears to fill numberless worlds. Its boundary passes no matter or light or evidence only memory may transit the horizon of that singular event and the Mage who brought that universe about has left this one now leaving it poorer in future and wealthy in dream. ------------------- Robert Weber Jan 2015