Pop art art on firePop art another lazy afternoonPop art trane in blue
tried again.
“Don’t exist, is what I’m trying to say.”
Granny reached a dungeon door. It was mainly age-
130
LOR06 ft/YQ LftDf£6
blackened oak, but with a large barred grille occupying some of the top half.
“In there.”
Verence peered inside.
“Good grief!”around. People act funny. They stop thinking clear. Don’t you know anything?”
“I thought . . . elves were just stories . . . like the Tooth “I got Shawn to unlock it. I don’t reckon anyone else saw us come in. Don’t tell anyone. If the dwarfs and the trolls find out, they’ll tear the walls apart to get him out.”“Why? To kill him?”“Of course. They’ve got better memories than humans.”“What am / supposed to do with it?”“Just keep it locked up. How should I know? I’ve got to think!”Verence peered in again at the elf. It was lying curled up in the center of the floor.“That’s an elf? But it’s .. . just a long, thin human with a foxy face. More or less. I thought they were supposed to be beautiful?”“Oh, they are when they’re conscious,” said Granny, wav-ing a hand vaguely “They project this ... this... when people look at them, they see beauty, they see something they want to please. They can look just like you want them to look. ‘S’called glamour. You can tell when elves are
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
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