Quiet streets. The young people have emigrated, and the old people never come out any more, after dark.

There are whole neighborhoods like this, ex-sanguinated.

The Magus lives in such a neighborhood. It suits him fine. There are no neighbors to greet him, no busybodies to wonder at his comings and goings.

He is on a ground floor apartment at the back of a building that has seen better days.
He never goes out. He buys groceries, a month’s worth at a time, so the shop assistant will deliver it. He has a friend who brings him art supplies, and clothes.
And he paints, all night, and sometimes, even for some of the day.
But he does not see scenery, or flowers, or people who stir him to art.

And so he paints dreams.
Somnus has a thousand sons, of whom Morpheus is all people, Phobetor is all beasts, and Phantasos is all objects.

The Magus paints the other sons of Somnus.