Nothing ever begins.
There is no first moment; no single word or place from wich this or any other story springs.
The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and to tales that preceed that; though as the narrators voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making [ ] Nothing is fixed. In and out the shuttle goes, fact and fiction, mind and matter woven into patterns that may have only this in common: that hidden among them is a filligree that will with time become world
Zit.: clive barker / weaveworld