Writers are highly resistant to reality. Just as well or the human condition would go undocumented.

The two seasons; deepest winter from above and nascent spring from below, created a juxtaposition that drew the

scene into the land of legend sitting only a heartbeat away behind a translucent river of time.

How is something authorised as 'feng shui compliant' he wondered. Is there a Chinese Ministry of Magic?

Jin looked both ways for the Quicksilver Dragon before crossing the canal.

The tiny sculptures revelled in the demotion of their celestial peers soaking up the limelight of human attention

after an eon of slumber. Woken from their torpor by the one thing that all art desires; an audience.

The two old men were as still as the stone bench on which they sat, as though their lengthy communion with the

element had turned them into statues.