’ ‘Good. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. “An Oracle you are! Sebastian never told me he’d made one!” Rhea screamed a scream that was part horror and part laughter. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful.
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