How do I know of all this? Well, that's very simple to understand. I went. You might call it dying I think, but it's not quite that. It's something rather more and less than that. I'll move on, someday, when I'm ready. For now, I'll watch.

Hungry? Thirsty? Both? Let me check . . . not quite yet. Should be open soon. Look through the entrance way. See the bright patio and cool trees beyond? See the two orange tabby cats?

Yes?

No? Then it's time. Neither cat stays for long. Cross the street and enter the Yellow Court, now, and it's a going. Where, I do not know for sure. Perhaps someday we'll meet again and you'll tell me.

Likely I will be here, or nearby, though the Cafe of the Yellow Court will likely not. As I said, it's generally found at a corner of Toulouse and Royal Street. Sometimes not. Places where people can come and go abound. The important ones, the true ones, the ones where the yellow sign can be seen, come and go as they please and such at the Cafe of the Yellow Court makes itself available at whim.

Whose whim? The King in Yellow's, of course.

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