There's A Place.
And that's all it is. It's just a place. The Place, to be exact. The Place is a place where everyone can go; it's filled with unicorns and sunshine and kittens, or death and destruction and fire, whatever floats your boat.

But The Place is not a place to hide. The Place is a place to soak into, to thrum through your veins, to flow through your earbuds as you're riding a subway in the underground kingdom of New York City. The Place is everything and nothing; it's there and it's gone. It can fly, like Superman; it can burn like a hot California summer; it can follow the rules like Simon Says, or rebel and twist the very universe we live in.

The Place is it's own creation.
No one knows how it came, how it was begun; we can only guess. "We" being us, the people, or the zombies, or the vampires, or the axe murderers and lovers and hippies and war veterans and yes, we are We. We are everything and nothing. We are something to soak into, to thrum through your veins, to flow through your earbuds as you're riding a subway in the underground kingdom of New York City.

So, goodnight, lovers and hippies and axe murderers. Goodnight.