Hi Babies! & Warm Greetings to all you readers of The Caterpillar, & all you random-house stumblers upon it by freakish accident. You are now entering a late and much shredded outpost of post-literary blog-posting. The old Chinese sage in silk robes paints poems & pictures on Mulberry leaves and sails them out of the windows of his breezy Pagoda, under a scudding moonclouddrenched sky. (Some call him mad – to him that is neither hear nor there) he scuds the painted leaves out from his narwhal tusk-tower, over the black shiny river, over the dark hills and fields of food where sometimes lovers lie, he sends out his little messages, never expecting a reply, response, reaction or comeback. Such is the contentment of the silken-enshrouded one. Like Satie, when writing his 7th Gnossienne, the leaf-painting poet does what he feels he must! And what of you, my friend; how is YOUR creative life going? Are you sailing out bubbles of humorous colour to bespatter the greyness of mondial mundanity? Old mad moon tower-dwelling inward pagoda man aspires for your collective sentient Happiness – Look- it’s written on the back of one of the Mulberry Leaves, in glittering silver ink!