He had caught himself a language. It crept up on him at times of the day in which he could neither determine place nor its time. The language managed itself into drawings he found himself scrawling to walls and paper.

By the next week the language had taken over and he became foreign. He was relieved of his family for safekeeping. His passport. The language took him to a country uninhabited. The first of others that would follow. As time passed the country seemed more familiar. And the maps of the world changed slowly to make space for its arrival.