Today is a minuet in candlelight, paced by the plucking of stringed instruments, rose pink and gold and ivory white with shadows of the past and reflections of the future, the smell of powder and dust mingled with the breath of fresh flowers and pine boughs and clove. Time takes the same measured steps through old halls with uneven stone floors echoing and firelight flickering and arched ceilings counted off in twos.
See September 21, 2008 for the genesis of my “today is . . . ” postings.
See September 21, 2008 for the genesis of my “today is . . . ” postings.
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