The guineas are not for serving your mistress. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 16-09-2024 11:09:55
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