A sceptre is haunting these columns, the sceptre of NothingHappened. It appears nothing is on the verge of bursting open and beginning to happen here.

We do not know what will happen. We do not know what happens when nothing happens.

We have been told there was a time, a whole wasted epoch, a wasteland as a matter of fact whose true chronicling has just about begun, when nothing happened. We have given it the name of the Era of NothingHappened. And in due course we shall tell you what happened in NothingHappened though, of course, it must be apparent to most what happened — Nothing Happened.

The sceptre, this most unique and spectral of objects, this thing sculpted in mystery and wrapped in enigma, this sceptre is a consequence of that time, that curse of a time that sat coiled upon us for so long, the time we now call NothingHappened.

If NothingHappened was not what it was, this sceptre would have happened. So many other things would have happened, all kinds of things that we have been waiting to happen to us, to our nation, for thousands of years.

We shall put out a detailed list, worry not, people are at work. They will soon submit to us and to you, the people, an unabridged inventory of all of those things. Among which is this sceptre.

It was among those many many splendoured things that was not allowed to happen. It was there, but it wasn’t provided the ledge to live. It was relegated, neglected, left to languish securely away from the prospect of happening.

But no longer. This sceptre is now happening, we have rescued it from NothingHappened and made it happen. We have brought it to haunt, among other spaces, these columns.

More’s on the way, we assure you. Our history was not happening. OUR history. It will happen now, coming soon, in the near future. Our culture was not happening. OUR culture. Wait till it is loosened from the vice grip of NothingHappened and allowed to come into its own. Our essential nature was not happening, or had stopped to happen in NothingHappened. We had lost touch with ourselves, we had forgotten who we are, what we look like, what we think and believe in and how we like to see ourselves. Such things, such damaging and deadening things, happened during NothingHappened. But no longer. We are putting you in touch with yourselves. It will take a little time, perhaps you will take a little convincing, but you’ll come around. Wait. Watch. The sceptre is here, it will haunt that out of you.

They said so here’s your pick

It could be a walking stick

But thanks, no, I said, I’d rather lick

Truth to tell, a flaming wick.