The Layers Unseen.

There is magic even here, in gridlock, in loneliness, in too much work, in late nights gone too long, in shopping trolleys with broken wheels, in boredom, in tax payments, the same magic that made a man write about a princess that slept until she was kissed, long golden hair draped over a balcony fingers pricked with needles. There is magic even here, in sewer-holes along a neat road, in not having the right change(you pat your pockets), arriving late and missing the school bus, the same magic that caused a woman in France to think that God spoke to her, that made another sit down at the front of the bus and refuse to move, that lead a man to think that maybe the world wasn't flat and the moon could be walked upon by human feet. There is magic. Even here. In a dim-lit, lonely room.