One day, as winter dusk settled on the wooded streets of Eugene, I wandered into an odd corner of a University of Oregon library.
I found shelves lined with ancient, holy books.
Each was a collection of stories housing the tenets of reality of another world. Running my hand across the spines, I was at once attracted to a book the shape of a rectangular prism, a box.
... the world of the Nootka ...
Opening the cover, the lid, I began to hear the voice of an old man, long since passed.
He spoke a language I didn't understand... told of wolves and men, and men who became wolves, and many other things...
Eventually, remembering dinner waiting for me at home, I returned to the library.