'''The Tatterdemalion''' is the force unexpected, the force unrecognized, the force unanswered. He is the light in the skull, distorted and broken through the prism of one's eyes. His touch is the late-night inspiration, the ungovernable whimsy, the mad genius, the moment of terrible clarity. He waits around every corner to open a jar of moths that will beat and flutter under the passer-by's skin, and then watches in excitement as they run off to do things they 'd never thought they'd do.