fishing for stars, hunting for moons

We know it now as a thriving metropolis, with flying cars and soda machines, but it was not always so. Before the rubber sidewalks, there was gravel and before that, there was dirt. Not so long have the phone booths been capable of following their user; they used to be stationary, and at one time pigeons were thought to be the way of the future. But we are delving deeper in time, further back than the introduction of the unicycle, and yes even the unveiling of the ostrich as the primary means of transportation. And the structure! Our beloved cityscape, in order to reach our age of interest, must dwindle to a townscape, then a villagescape, a neighborhoodscape, plantationscape, down to the silhouette of a pithy little cabin on a hillside where Francis Orwell and his wife had seven children and grew green beans. Now take a few steps further back, take apart the cabin, send the wagon back over the mountains. What the heck! Scratch the wagon and any consideration of traveling at all. We're getting close. Close to what? You see, there was a blip of time before there was anything to remember. And there was a fox then who lived unhappily in a hole and he was forgotten, as was the unhappy land inwhich he lived, where Francis Orwell and his wife had seven children and grew green beans.

Spur Turkey