Another chamber. This time, it was like a picture of mountains or woods. A humongous forest, full of trees of all shapes and sizes, those that you would normally not find together in the wild. Palm trees, oaks, magnolias, sequoias of ages past reaching into the gray sky. Peaceful, clear blue streams running through the dense forest carpet, mushrooms and ferns edging both sides of it. The river flows through the forests, the hills and the valleys. The landscape then changes into some ancient city. You don’t recognize the structure and the style of the buildings, but they feel so familiar, like you have seen them a thousand times before on pictures and in real-life. The architecture is a combination of styles, mixed and matched into a strange hotchpotch of empires and kingdoms. You see buildings that appear to be Roman but look distinctly modern when looked at from the other side. Mesopotamian temples full of color, simple, yet elegant, meeting with the dark and gloomy creations of stone and glass build to celebrate God on the funds of the Catholic Church. A Muslim mosaic on the floor of a Synagogue. Le Corbusier finishing a building started by Gaudi. The rebellious nature of Hundertwasser bursting through the cold and monotone buildings of Germania. Indian and Aztec pyramids colliding, crashing together. Roman aqueducts carrying Victorian steam-trains, stopping at the pantheon of Athens and at the Big Ben. A horse drawn Tesla car. Boeing's 767 made with the same materials as the first biplanes. Dozens, if not hundreds of time periods dancing in a impossible ballet, creating artworks never to be seen by the human eye. If you walk long enough through this improbable city you will notice something. A shadow on the run from something, unseen. A watchful gaze monitoring your every move, your every step. You never see him in person, but you know he is there always. Taking pictures of the buildings, the creations designed with his mind. He looks very familiar but also very alien. His skin is marble, his eyes are of an undefined color. His hair is green like the forest he resides in. He is muscular, probably from carrying the gigantic backpack full of clothes, washing amenities and bottles. A sleeping bag is bound to his backpack. His chest is crossed with two belts, one for his computer bag and one for his camera. The pockets of his long green jacket that combines both Victorian, Edwardian and modern influences are deeper than the sea and filled with souvenirs and memorabilia from every single country in the world. He has tattoos running along his arms, graffiti you see on the side of a train. The drawing on his back is of a world map, shifting and changing from era to era. His pants are both formal and informal, retro and modern, new and old. You would see them on a Victorian explorer as well on a picture of your friend who has just returned from Egypt. He can tell you stories beyond your imagination, that you even cannot see in your wildest dreams. He has been everywhere, seen everything and combined it all in his kingdom of wonder and magic. He is the lord of travel, the keeper of tourists. He is tired and weary, for he has been everywhere and has nothing left to discover.