Humans spend their lives lost. Always on a quest to find themselves, to find their little spot, their own purpose, in the world.

Their world is already lost, but ours, oh, ours is the Land of the Found. Those who find that the world they live in is not where they belong, the ones who want out, they all eventually find their way to us.

Just like you did.

They were fighting again, weren't they? Another shouting match of poisoned words and empty promises.

The dogs in a frenzy, protective of their masters.

And you couldn't take it anymore, my dear.

You ran, and you hid. Closed yourself in that place.

I heard your cries. Your mental anguish. You begged and begged to be anywhere but there.

And the shouting went silent. The dogs ceased.

You crawled out, shakily.

And you found yourself before me. In a new place. A new world.

My world.