He glanced at the
ruins of his High Priestess. She gurgled. I go back about once a year. The
south-east end of the island was hillocky, with volcanic subsoil. I really must leave you now. It’s not
like we’re getting married. . Why, honestly enouch. Better get back
now! You be careful. And don’t talk until we’re well out of
earshot. It creaked slightly. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion
and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present
it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal
description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those
valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a
swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of
determined women at war with the universe. ‘You wound me to the heart,
Melusine.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 06-07-2024 11:19:46