Drive out in my Mercedes SLK.
Which becomes like a TARDIS.
Part this dimension, part another, along with temporal shifts.
Drifting deep into the wilds of the Norfolk and Suffolk countryside.
To ancient mounds (portals), old churches, and strange, otherworldly landscapes.
Park up.
Muse for a while.
Acclimatise to the location.
Walk the ghost roads.
Lanes to nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
Hear the whispers of the other-worlders.
Speaking ancient tongues.
And of majiks done long before.
And the skies.
The clouds.
Conveying their messages.
Gazing down on the majiks being conducted.
Travelling the other realms, part here, part there.
In the place of formations, the etheric plane, where any given probability stream can be nudged into manifestation.
Or diverted as the case may be.
One path turned to another.
CyberDeck in hand, the majiks surge.
The Earth begins to undulate.
Worlds collide.
The old ones stir.
Will is done.
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