As Joao tucks under a lovingly woven quilt, he asks himself: So it's just me now? He curls up, getting cozy in bed, and soon the world of his dreams unspools on the page. The blanket in his bed unravels into deep rivers, lakes, valleys, reservoirs, mountain ranges, fishing nets full of tadpoles and gaping holes, until what's left is just one long thread. When he feels alone and scared in the dark, Joao 'sews words like patchwork' into a new blanket. He weaves the threads of his quilt until they form one long sentence, and soon, the nighttime is peppered with his own silvery, slippery words.
