It is Friday, 20th June, 2025.

A small plant pot stands in our view. It is motionless. It hasn’t moved since it was placed there, many months ago. It is patient—like a patient dog that waits, and waits, and waits.

The dog was told it hadn’t been waiting at all—it had simply been anticipating something very, very exciting.

I looked at the dog and shook its paw. A perfect greeting. We were in agreement that the skyscraper before us was far too tall. We walked closer, but the closer we came, the taller it seemed to grow.

It was a warm day, and the pavement beneath our feet was hot.

The dog sat down. I sat beside it.

A fly jumped over a crack in the pavement and arrived where we sat. The fly could fly, but it watched—yet the dog just sat. The dog was in deep thought. A spiral of colours moved through its eyes. The dog smiled and shook hands with the fly.

The fly then flew away.

We decided to guess where the fly had gone. We couldn’t see it, but we imagined its whereabouts—perhaps more vividly than the fly itself could. The fly was preoccupied imagining where it wasn’t. It hovered endlessly and was never truly where it was.

All of our thoughts were transported to another place—one neither we, nor the fly, had ever been.

With a blink, we were surrounded by a metropolitan area, filled with commercial buildings.

The dog noticed something in a shop window: a small plant pot. Motionless.

It didn’t look like it had moved since it was placed there, many hours ago. 

There was an aura around the object—a presence that remained perfectly still within its physical context. Many ideas moved around the staticity of a familiar sense of constant. A constant that brought us in line with real time.

The glass window was spotless, perfectly polished. The signage above was most spectacular and very familiar. We recognised the letters, but not the word.

It began to get dark, as the sun disappeared—along with the fly.

Next, the dog vanished. And finally, we all looked out from the top floor of the skyscraper that had become so tall, it swallowed us whole. We were immersed in our own fantasies. 

All suspense sat as quietly as the plant pot, which hadn’t moved since it was placed there, many seconds go. 

We were truly astonished to see where the toy’s still flying—and to hear of the worlds of the fleeing, flying fly.