‘Fee fi fo fum, I smell the words of an Englishman! Be they writ or be they read, I’ll try not to grind his bones to make my bread: You see, my singing harp’s forgotten her lines and the golden goose has done laid an egg — in an airy-dary, fairy-tale world, what’s a sensible, modern thinking giant to do?’
It all starts with a handful of beans. They’re all different colours and seem to glow slightly and, for some reason, slightly warm to the touch. They’re magic beans, of course.
Well, the thoughtful chap or chapess ask themselves, what do I want with magic beans? What, when all’s said and done, are they good for? We live in a modern, automated, processed world.
And that, really, is sort of the point. People can tell when things aren’t real. And what they crave, deep down, is for things to be real again.
And that takes imagination. To make something from nothing always does. And more than imagination, it takes being able to express and put it, so to speak, into words.
‘But where am I to find such a man?’ the aforementioned thoughtful person naturally asks themselves.
Well, as luck would have it, I might be able to help you there …