In back-water edddies, the most voluminous river on Earth, the sedate-sounding Twitter Stream
overran its banks, pouring onto fertile ground, the raw material, of dreams.

In Twitter’s #twitterfiction, in a mysterious formula of one hundred forty characters, an author found epigrams, aphorisms, alchemy and real-lit, also known as, reality-literature.

In Twitter’s #twitterfiction, in tweets Art found, Dickinsonian epigram; back then, Zeitgeist’s Zen was borne of Renaissance and Reformation.

In Twitter’s #twitterfiction, in tweets Art found, Nietzschean aphorism; back then, Zeitgeist’s Zen was borne of not evolution, but devolution.

In Twitter’s #twitterfiction, in tweets Art found, both epigram and aphorism, both now, often, denominated as tweets. Names varied; their essence didn’t; all are pithy statements.

In Twitter’s #twitterfiction, in tweets Art found, collections of pithy statements, were stories expectant. He dreamed of writing an epic, nonfictional, history.

In back-water eddies of Twitter Streams Arthur found, in a flood of tweets (#twitterfiction-ally), the stuff, of dreams. They flooded the fallow fields of his mind. He soaked it up; nonfictionally.