The Boyg


A conversation with a curious entity.

Words by and illustration by Minerva Freire

Walking in the woods Danx came to a curious set of large rock formations. They towered high and had deep, arresting features. The area around seemed to darken and close in on itself until all Danx could see of themself was a shadow. Then a voice spoke with great volume and authority, “hello there.”

Danx said, “hello? Who’s there?”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,”

“Who are you?”

“I am myself.”

“What?” Danx circled the area and kicked up dirt and leaves and squinted in the dark to try and find the source of the voice, “where are you?”

“I’m here. Where are you?” said the voice.

“Also here.”

“Yes, we’re both here.”

“I don’t understand you.” Danx marvelled once more at the rocks

“Wonderful, aren’t they?”

“I suppose. Who are you again?”

“I am myself,”

Danx blinked and frowned at this answer. It wasn’t untrue but it wasn’t satisfactory either. Placing a hand on one of the rocks Danx then said, “I wonder how long something like this has been here,”

“They look old but they’ve not been here nearly as long as they haven’t been here.”


“Before they were here this place was terribly wild and overgrown”

“It still seems that way,”

“More so. And before that it was all ice and snow,”

“How do you know that?”

“I think I’ve been here for the longest. Though I can never be certain of that.”

Danx said, “How is it you came here?”

“I don’t know. How did you come here?”

“By accident, really. I’ve just been walking and walking. It feels like I’ve been going on for days,”

“And where are you going?”

“No where. It’s where I’ve come from which is the issue. I’m not suited to life in the real world.”

“Where’s the real world?”

Danx looked up and sighed, “You know, that’s a very good question. This is the real world.”

“And so where were you before?”

“With other people in a place with buildings and things,”

“Oh yes, buildings. I know those.”

“You do? Yes. You seem like you know everything.”

“I only know what I can see. And I can see buildings from here.”

“Can you see me?”

“Yes of course. But I probably can’t see you in the same way you can see you.”

“Oh.” Danx sat cross legged on the ground and continued to look up, because up seemed the most appropriate direction to look in, “what else can you see?”

“I can see a lot of things but they are often hard to put into words. I can see beginnings and the ends of things. There are lots of large balls of fire all around, and I see them burning out all the time. And new ones made all the time. Though I don’t know how.”

“Those sound like stars,”

“Stars! Of course. You see them too?”

“Yes but… not with nearly as much clarity as you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stars are so far away,”

“From what?”

“From us… or I mean, me. Gosh. Where exactly are you?”

“I’m here,”

“But where’s here?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question.”

Danx stayed quiet for a while and then went on, “I guess it doesn’t matter where you are. You can see an awful lot.”

“I have no idea how much I can and cannot see, really,”

“How did you know what a building was called but not what a star was called?”

“People use the word a lot and I was able to match that to the things I see. I have to guess a lot. But a lot of guessing leads to being right sometimes,”

“No wonder why you didn’t know what a star was called. They look like tiny pin-pricks of light to us,” Danx thought some more, “what do I look like to you?”

“Hardly a thing,”


“Are you a human?”


“When humans are all together in one lump I can make them out more easily. On your own you are a faint whisper of matter,”


“Yes, it’s odd considering how powerful you are. Your physical presence is so insignificant comparatively to other things, and yet you all seem to be in charge. Stars are huge burning balls of fire but don’t seem to have any effect whatsoever at the moment,”

“Stars may never effect anything but there are other forces greater than us that win out. People die from natural disasters all the time,”

“What is a natural disaster?”

“Like a hurricane or a tsunami or an earthquake,”

“What are those?”

“Well an earthquake is where the ground shakes and-”

“Oh I know those. It was a series of those which made these large rocks which you like,”

“Oh really? Interesting.”

“But how is that a disaster?”

“Because people die,”

“Yes I know. People die. People always die, don’t they?”

Danx had absolutely no response to this very true statement and so was silent again.

Then the voice said, “Although there’s something that I’m sure I can’t see but that people talk about an awful lot. I should really like to see it, because it seems like such an exciting thing.”

“Oh, really? What’s that?”

“It’s what you call a TV.”

Georgia Iacovou is an artist who’s approach to making is that of making collections and indexes. She has self-published a number of books, one example being a series of books which attempt to explain and analyse the lyrics of Nirvana songs.