Man in a vacuum the Devic wanderer, a most unfortunate soul. As quick as one likes he was sucked in deep, covered in dust and choking. He shouted, screamed, he fought off spiders, a host of fleas. All dusty detritus the Devic mite bashed the side of this tough paper bag until the big hands took the bag outside. The Devic mite could feel streams of air rushing through the one and only hole. Spiralling to a concrete floor he ran to a privet hedge and hid long enough before finding once more his own kind. A happy ending in the chaos of life.
Since my imagination vanished I thought I would leave my husk to the wind and feel where I ended up, a daisy seed, part of a globe. It is many parts a device of creation wild faithless, sometimes pointless but ultimately global in presentation.