Well, I don't have a title yet, but I had an AMAZING 3-part dream these past three nights. It would be a really good book. Now all I have to do is write it. 123 go!

Prolouge

The Artist frowned at his work. He did not want it to be put in buildings all over the world. He would rather have it in a museum in Paris, or perhaps Beijing. Not in three seperate buildings. He sighed and put one of the priceless masterpieces in a heavily styrofoamed box. It was not worth it, he thought. The paint had come from the most expensive flowers in India, the canvas from the rich cloth in Paris, and the frame from bamboo in China. I should be payed a lot more, he thought bitterly. These paintings have something to them.. something, magical about them. Perhaps something in the paint? He finished putting the last one into a box, stood up, and walked outside. The roar of his car split through the rainy night, and he drove to the overcrowded airport.

Yes, the prolouge is supposed to be that short.