“Two wizards, neighbours and now and then collaborators, enjoyed the peace and freedom of their land in the heart of the Purple Highlands. Between their two towers lay wildflowered hills burrowed full of holes by cottontail rabbits and woodchucks. The hills were treeless save for a few lone plum trees that blossomed pink in spring. On fogless nights, those in the village nearby watched as the two wizards debated: their words shot like fireworks between the towers and met in the middle with starry explosions as vowels and consonants loosened from the logic of language fell to the ground. And on some of those nights, unbeknownst to the villagers, after the firewords ceased the two wizards shared a bottle of dry red wine and a game of Fox & Goose. They took turns hosting.”