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Once upon a time
between the stars we know as stars and stars we know nothing of,
a couple of fishermen sat feathering lures and mending their nets.
As the day was young and the tide too slack to launch their small
boats, they got to talking, as fishermen do, of places they'd been
and of the marvelous things they'd seen. Each place was stranger,
each thing more marvelous, than things among the stars we know
were ever thought to be. When the tide rolled in, each knew
more than he did before, not only about the travels of the other
- but, in some strange sense, about the places he'd seen himself
among the stars we know nothing of. Sitting in their boats, wide
distant one from the other in the tide, it occured to each that he had
neglected to ask the name of the other. So, as years passed, not
chancing to meet again, and not knowing whom to attribute the tales
to, each began to remember the things that the other had said as
memories of his own. And when these fishermen passed on, the
stories were told by others as stories of their own. And it may be
said without fear of contradiction from the woman who wears the
dark veil and feeds all the stray cats of the town, that they were not
mistaken, since stories are as much a part of a man as his blood,
his bones, his children, his wife and his dreams.

The Orfeo Files

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Terence McKenna's Hyperborea and Novelty Report