"I call it The Great Arkansas River" he said proudly, standing up. "Last year me and Jason won first prize. It was called The Three Wonderful Castles of the World and a Couple Little Bitty Ones. That's my friend Jason, there."
Jason's work was even more abstract—several piles of wet sand, a few bent aluminum pie plates and a blue sneaker rising like a whale out of a pool. "What are you making?"
"Well...the prehistoric...thing. What is it, Michael?" He turned to his friend. "Time? The Prehistoric Time? Yeah, that's it. See, we have a sandpile at home, we make stuff, practice. I drawed that," he said, pointing to The Prehistoric Time. "Well, no, I didn't really draw it, I saw it. I saw it in a movie called Alien."
"Hey! What happened?" A heavy man, panting and sweating in wet madras shorts, was addressing a small team of near-naked children. "I walked across the river to get you all T shirts. When I left, there was a castle. Now, when I come back, there's a bull's head." He was crosseyed over the transformation. "That's the problem with sand," said Michael. "You got to constantly decide what it is. See, sand can be...anything."
"Yeah," said Jason, scooping up a large fistful of The Prehistoric Time and throwing it out over the river. It broke and scattered in the air. Off in the distance, behind the foreground of poplars, cottonwoods and elms, rose the concrete, glass and steel skyline of downtown Tulsa, of modern times. "That's why I like it," said Jason, beaming as he studied the tiny grains of quartz that were clinging to his open hand.