Everything hidden creeps up through the sidewalks oozes through the cracks, crimes crying to be solved. Shanghaied, rolling out under the Golden Gate.
Fog horns freight train whistles odd night noises music or.... tattoo signs, an old jackknife and some papers, a bottle of ink dried up now, somehow the big sheets made it by, floating mermaids and lovesick sailors, a bowling ball in the corner of the old pine floor, flash sheets with dragons, a fish, many little birds and a mystery of the bejeweled twins who, with a wink and a smile, live eternally young from these pages.
Captain Jack Howard, SF 1920's
