“I saw a walking island once,” said the old man.
“No way!” said the child.
“I saw it walk into the bay, with trees as tall as heaven and leaves like the wind.”
“What did you do?”
“We went to see if we'd find friends or food.”
“And what did you see?”
“Grapes of lead and burning fire and death and desire.”
The young man remembered the conversation now. Gazing out from the trees he saw the wooden island drawing near. Its leaves were folded back on themselves and a boat set out for the shore. The future was here.