“Hey. You there. You're alone right now, aren't you? No one else around? Then I'll tell you. This is just for you. Don't tell anyone. If you tell, it disappears. ...The world, you see, is made of foam. Pop, pop — somewhere a bubble is born, it shines, it vanishes. And where it vanished, the next one is born. So foam, even when it disappears, never wholly disappears. You are a bubble too. Your house, the sky, the night — all inside one great bubble. And there is something watching that bubble. From far, far away, in the dark. Alone. Always. It is watching you, too. Even now, as you read this book in secret. Scared? You don't have to turn around. There's nothing there if you do. ...Probably. But don't be afraid. That something — it's the same age as you. Long, long ago, it was a child about your age, all alone. So it understands you. Now. Turn the page. But don't hurry. If someone comes, close the book at once. This is our secret — yours and mine. Kagome, kagome. The bird of foam — when, oh when will it come out? On the evening of the dawn, it forms and fades, fades and forms. The one behind you, facing front — who is it?
