I told him of a dream visit to the woods, of seeing toned furred creatures dancing and singing in a clearing. Cries and bursts of sound mangling each other into a fantastic rendition of all-knowing force. Song. Such abandon! Their laughter and exuberance were infectious. I sat on a limb and watched the show. Grass asked what species they were...no answer. No knowing. Akin to the beasts in B's paintings. Breeds of otherworlds? Sleep state, I know, yet they were so real!"
FROM KOR'S PRIVATE WRITINGS, Page 111 - PRIME MINISTER OF TITICACA

"16 stadiums, each sitting at least 20,000, stand unused. 43 churches, 89 factories, 117 housing buildings in this prefect alone which, for various reasons sit unoccupied, sealed, owned and operated by bureocratic ghosts who have no need for them. We charge time to the homeless problem. We review the homeless. I'm almost done with my proposal. I plan to present it next month.

Oork is sick today. 'Tunnel easy is life not,' he spoke through his thick woods accent, 'the dislike compression my ears and hard to food is come by. Thank." He said as I handed him a Benta box. He's one of a special breed, which in the streets they call hoppers. Homeless elders who once inhabited the woods as hunters and now live under bridges, under buildings and in the tunnels. Anywhere sheltered and dark. Their rugged, disheveled appearance, the strange, piercing sounds they interject in their speech, their pale and withered eyes -result of life in Fleeks- provoke fear and mistrust in most. They avoid people and people avoid them. They're harmless though. Deeper in need, and most of them, like Oork, getting on in years, crowded with scars."
FROM KOR'S PRIVATE WRITINGS, Page 300 - PRIME MINISTER OF TITICACA