We followed the train of thought through to its termination. It was a mistake we wouldn’t make soon, but would eventually, again and again. The populations shiver and sit, mysteryless, like commoners knighted on the eve of a battle suddenly postponed or perhaps cancelled entirely, nobody knew?
We hope it was once as simple as the sign on a tavern door, the bluebells, a black prince, or a swan, the huge swans gliding like silent statues on the lagoon ensconcing the crumbling citadel, and in the middle distance desert and desert and the small building, the architecture simple, but classical, perhaps a church, and inside of you ancient things, hanging in the little shop window of your heart.
Pages: 1 2