aerienne

"most capital, most capital," cried the ubiquitous codger as he emerged from the hall of royal artifacts, the longest-running exhibit at the museum of everything. the crowns and scepters and amulets were not prized for their wealth nor for their antiquity but rather, as everyone of the land of i insisted, for the music about them. the ions swore that no being, lifeless or not, could possibly resist their reflexes. and as for our old codger? he most preferred to let fall his eyes on a spinning sphere of smoke and mirrors