The salamander enters the dream. A dream that has escaped the wire fence of the mind. The colours of dawn and the brightness of reflection. The colour of touch, the texture of sound. All tainted by human hands. The harm caused through absorption into the skin. A defence against all, all expect human hands. Here, left amongst the discarded means of travel through time. The salamander enters the dream. The dream rising up, evading the call of the dawn. Rising up against a dawn on fire. No space between the moments. No space in this travel through time. In a city, in a mind. See how the salamander enters the dream. The salamander, demanding attention. Arising still, like a saviour of the distance. Setting fires in the horizon. The salamander enters the dream of a life on fire. The salamander sits casually, displayed down a side street. In a city. In a space. In a mind. The salamander remembers. At night when memories close in and form into dreams that escape. Escape through an opening in a wire fence. A fence, just by a corner, in a city. A city in a mind. The salamander sits casually, on fire. On fire and dreaming of life. Life tainted by human hands.