The Art Of Merk

He beckoned me to come closer. "Come. Come. Warm yourself by the fire." I stepped closer, hesitant. Who was this man? I thought I was alone in the wilderness. I haven't seen anyone in weeks. He offered me food and began to regale me with stories of mining and gold strikes. As he went on I realized everything he referenced was from the turn of the century. Any time I spoke of anything remotely modern, he would scrunch up his eyebrows, give me a quizzical look and then carry on with his story. When I awoke the next morning, the embers had all but gone cold and there was no sign of him. I was alone again.