Pino close to my heart

Pino close to my heartUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt VirginieUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1George Stubbs Lion Devouring a HorseUnknown Artist Sea of Cortez Cabo San Lucas
it’s goose on Tuesdays,’ said the Dean.
Poons opened one eye and honked the horn on his wheelchair.
‘Tantarabobs! How’s your granny off for soap!’ he muttered triumphantly.
‘See what I mean?’ said the Chair. ‘He doesn’t know what century it is.’
Poons The wizards stared hungrily at the bag.
‘They be having buttered banged grains and sausages in buns and chocolate things with things on and things,’ said Poons. He gave them a toothless and crafty look. ‘You can have some too, if you like,’ he added graciously.

The Dean ticked off his purchases. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘that’s six Patrician‑sized turned a beady black eye on him.‘Old I am, mm, and daft I may be,’ he said, ‘but I ain’t goin’ to be hungry.’ He rummaged around in the unspeakable depths of the wheelchair and produced a greasy black bag. It jingled. ‘I saw a young lady up the front a‑selling of special moving‑picture food,’ he said.‘You mean you had money all the time?’ said the Dean. ‘And you never told us?’‘You never asked,’ said Poons.

Leroy Neiman Casino

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pen jerked and tore and raced onwards.
Brother against brother! Women in crinoline dresses slapping people’s faces! A mighty dynasty brought low!
A great city aflame! Not with passione, he made a note in the margin, but with flame.
Possibly even
He bit his lip.
Yeah. He’d been waiting for this! Yeah!
A thousand elephants!
(Later Soll Dibbler said, ‘Look, Uncle, the Ankh-Morpork civil war - great idea. No problem with that. Famous historical occurrence, no problem. It’s just that none of the historians mentioned seeing any elephants.’
‘It was a big warlittle battles here. They’d need just about ev,’ said Dibbler defensively. ‘You’re bound to miss things.’ ‘Not a thousand elephants, I think.’ ‘Who’s running this studio?’ ‘It’s just that-’ ‘Listen,’ said Dibbler. ‘Maybe they didn’t have a thousand elephants, but we’re going to have a thousand elephants, ‘cos a thousand elephants is more real, OK?’) The sheet gradually filled up with Dibbler’s excited scrawl. He reached the bottom and continued over the woodwork of the bed. By the gods, this was the real stuff! No fiddly ery handleman in Holy Wood!
He sat back, panting with exhilarated exhaustion.
He could see it now. It was as good as made.

Henri Rousseau Sleeping Gypsy

Henri Rousseau Sleeping GypsyHenri Rousseau Scout Attacked by a TigerHenri Rousseau Merry JestersHenri Rousseau Exotic LandscapeHenri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908
I’m sorry,’ he babbled. ‘I’ll go back and wait for you to get dressed . . . ‘
‘I am dressed.’
‘Mr Dibbler says-’ said Detritus, behind them.
‘Come on,’ said Ginger, grabbing his arm. ‘We mustn’t keep everyone waiting.’
‘But seeing you like that?’ said Victor, amazed.
‘Why should I? This is moving pictures. It’s not as if it’s real. Anyway, you’d be amazed at what girls have to do for a lot less than ten dollars a day.’
‘Nine,’ said Gaspode, who was still trailing at Victor’s heels.
‘Right, gather round, people,’ shouted Dibbler through a
megaphone. ‘Sons of the Desert over there, please. The slave
girls - where are the slave girls? Right. Handlemen?–’
‘I’ve never seen so many people in a click,’ Ginger whispered. ‘It must be costing more than a hundred dollars!’ you’re . . . your . . . ‘ Victor looked down, which wasn’t a help. ‘You’ve got a navel in your diamond,’ he hazarded. ‘I’ve come to terms with that,’ said Ginger, flexing her shoulders in an effort to make everything settle. ‘It’s these two saucepan lids that are giving me problems. Makes you realize what those poor girls in the harems must suffer.’ ‘And you don’t mind people

Alphonse Maria Mucha Flower

Alphonse Maria Mucha FlowerAlphonse Maria Mucha FlirtAlphonse Maria Mucha DanceAlphonse Maria Mucha AutumnMichelangelo Buonarroti The Creation of Adam hand
his life savings were now resting in a leather bag inside his jerkin. He’d been in Holy Wood for a day. He’d looked at its ramshackle organization, such as it was, with the eye of a lifelong salesman. There seemed nowhere in it for ‘It’s me. Detritus,’ said Detritus. ‘Fancy seein’ you here, eh?’
He gave Dibbler a grin like a crack appearing in a vital bridge support. him, but this wasn’t a problem. There was always room at the top. A day’s enquiries and careful observation had led him to Interesting and Instructive Kinematography. Now he stood on the far side of the street, watching carefully. He watched the queue. He watched the man on the gate. He reached a decision. He strolled along the queue. He had brains. He knew he had brains. What he needed now was muscle. Somewhere here there was bound to– ‘Aft’noon, Mister Dibbler.’ That flat head, those rangy arms, that curling lower lip, that croaking voice that bespoke an IQ the size of a walnut. It added up to–

Salvador Dali Melting Watch

Salvador Dali Melting WatchSalvador Dali Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a PomegranateSalvador Dali BacchanaleSalvador Dali AscensionPhilip Craig Boboli Gardens - Florence
There was a long, embarrassing silence.
'It's a wossname, a figure of speech,' said the Sphinx irritably, making another lunge.
'No, nothat the average life expectancy is seventy years, okay?'
'Okay,' said the Sphinx, in the uncertain tones of someone who has let the salesman in and is now regretfully contemplating a future in which they are undoubtedly going to buy life insurance., look, wait a minute,' said Teppic. 'I'd like us to be very clear about this, right? I mean, it's only fair, right?' 'Nothing wrong with the riddle,' said the Sphinx. 'Damn good riddle. Had that riddle for fifty years, sphinx and cub.' It thought about this. 'Chick,' it corrected. 'It's a good riddle,' Teppic said soothingly. 'Very deep. Very moving. The whole human condition in a nutshell. But you've got to admit, this doesn't all happen to one individual in one day, does it?' 'Well. No,' the Sphinx admitted. 'But that is self-evident from the context. An element of dramatic analogy is present in all riddles,' it added, with the air of one who had heard the phrase a long time ago and rather liked it, although not to the extent of failing to eat the originator. 'Yes, but,' said Teppic crouching down and brushing a clear space on the damp sand, 'is there internal consistency within the metaphor? Let's say for example

John William Waterhouse Lamia

John William Waterhouse LamiaVincent van Gogh The Yellow HouseLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the RocksLeonardo da Vinci St John the BaptistLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with Yarnwinder
And because he was now a king, he made a mental note to have the marshes patrolled periodically from now on. A king should boat had dropped him off a little way downstream of the palace and, blue in the moonlight, the pyramid flares on the far bank were filling the night with their familiar glow.
The abodes of the happy dead came in all sizes although not, of course, in all shapes. They clustered thickly nearer the city, as though the dead like company.
And even the oldest ones were all complete. No-know things. He stopped, ankle deep in river ooze. He had known everything. Arthur had rambled on vaguely about seagulls and rivers and loaves of bread sprouting, which suggested he'd drunk too much. All Teppic could remember was waking up with a terrible sense of loss, as his memory failed to hold and leaked away its new treasures. It was like the tremendous insights that come in dreams and vanish on waking. He'd known everything, but as soon as he tried to remember what it was it poured out of his head, as from a leaky bucket. But it had left him with a new sensation. Before, his life had been ambling along, bent by circumstance. Now it was clicking along on bright rails. Perhaps he hadn't got it in him to be an assassin, but he knew he could be a king. His feet found solid ground. The

Leroy Neiman 18th at Harbourtown

Leroy Neiman 18th at HarbourtownLeroy Neiman 16th at AugustaSalvador Dali Manhattan SkylineMartin Johnson Heade Cattleya Orchid and Three Brazilian HummingbirdsCaravaggio The Raising of Lazarus
tower. She was a widow, after all. He felt he ought to be kind to widows. But being kind to the duchess didn't seem to achieve much, she didn't understand it, she thought it was just weakness. He was dreadfully afraid that he might have power). If she'd thrown herself in prison, she would have found considerable satisfaction in making herself regret she'd ever been born. But they'd just given her blankets, and worried about her.
Well, she'd be back. There was a big world out there, and she knew how to pull the levers to have her head cut off.No, being a king was no laughing matter. He brightened up at the thought. There was that to be said about it.And, after a while, he fell asleep. The duchess was not asleep. She was currently halfway down the castle wall on a rope of knotted sheets, having spent the previous day gradually chipping away the mortar around the bars of her window although, in truth, you could hack your way out of the average Lancre Castle wall with a piece of cheese. The fool! He'd given her cutlery, and plenty of bedclothes! That was how these people reacted. They let their fear do their thinking for them. They were scared of her, even when they thought they had her in their power (and the weak never had the strong in their power, never truly in their

George Inness Spring Blossoms New Jersey

George Inness Spring Blossoms New JerseyGeorge Inness RomeGeorge Inness Pond at Milton on the HudsonGeorge Inness Passing CloudsGeorge Inness End of Day
dwarf dropped his axe and sat down on the bench, his face suddenly softened with enthusiasm.
'I went last week,' he said. 'Bloody good, it was. There was this girl and this fellow, but she was married to this old man, and 'Give 'em a bit of Gretalina's soliloquy, boy,' he said.
'Right.'
Tomjon stood up, hit his head, sat down and then knelt on the floor there was this other fellow, and they said he'd died, and she pined away and took poison, but then it turned out this man was the other man really, only he couldn't tell her on account of—' Thundergust stopped, and blew his nose. 'Everyone died in the end,' he said. 'Very tragic. I cried all the way home, I don't mind telling you. She was so pale.''No. 19 and a layer of powder,' said Tomjon cheerfully. 'Plus a bit of brown eyeshadow.''Eh?''And a couple of hankies in the vest,' he added.'What's he saying?' said the dwarf to the company at, for want of a better word, large.Hwel smiled into his tankard.

Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the Magi

Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the MagiThomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to WorkJean Francois Millet The AngelusJean Francois Millet Angelus
said he'd let him out directly, Nanny.'
There was a snort from Granny Weatherwax.
'Did you hear the sniggering in the crowd?' she said. 'Someone sniggered!'
Nanny Ogg sat down beside her.
'And a couple of them pointed,' she said. 'I know.'
'It's not to be borne!'
Magrat sat down on the other end of the log.
'I mean, there's that witch over Skund way,' she said. 'Sister Whosis, wossname, her son went off to be a sailor – you know, Gytha, her who sniffs and puts them antimassacres on the backs of chairs soon as you sits down—'
'Grodley,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Sticks her little finger out when she drinks her tea and drops her Haitches all the time.'There's other witches,' she said. 'There's lots of witches further up the Ramtops. Maybe they can help.'The other two looked at her in pained surprise.'I don't think we need go that far,' sniffed Granny. 'Asking for help.''Very bad practice,' nodded Nanny Ogg.'But you asked a demon to help you,' said Magrat.'No, we didn't,' said Granny.'Right. We didn't.''We ordered it to assist.''S'right.'Granny Weatherwax stretched out her legs and looked at her boots. They were good strong boots, with hobnails and crescent-shaped scads; you couldn't believe a cobbler had made them, someone had laid down a sole and built up from there.

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914Claude Monet The Seine at Rouen IClaude Monet The Road Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet The Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Spring 1880
silence continued. Then Mrs Vitoller said, 'And you, who ask this, you are by way of being his—?'
'Godmothers,' said Nanny Ogg promptly. Granny was slightly taken aback. It never would have occurred to her.
Vitoller played abstractly with the coins in front of him. His wife reached out across the table and touched his hand, and be happy to take care of him.'
Granny nodded, and fished in the deepest recesses of her cloak. At last she produced a small leather bag, which she tipped out on to the table. There was a lot of silver, and even a few tiny gold coins.
'This should take care of—' she groped – 'nappies and suchlike. Clothes and things. Whatever.'
'A hundred times over, I should think,' said Vitoller weakly. 'Why didn't you mention this before?'
'If I'd had to buy you, you wouldn't be worth the price.'there was a moment of unspoken communion. Granny looked away. She had grown expert at reading faces, but there were times when she preferred not to.'Money is, alas, tight—' Vitoller began.'But it will stretch,' said his wife firmly.'Yes. I think it will. We should

Salvador Dali The Ecumenical Council

Salvador Dali The Ecumenical CouncilSalvador Dali The Cellist Ricardo PichotSalvador Dali My Wife,Nude
Cutwell shuddered. 'It's very impressive,' he said, when he could trust himself to speak. 'You don't think it's perhaps a bit mature, though?'
'It's queenly.'
'Yes, but Keli. 'He walks through walls!'
'I've been thinking about that,' said Cutwell. 'It's a puzzle, isn't it? He walks through things only if he doesn't know he's doing it. I think it's an industrial disease.'
'What?'
'I was nearly sure last night. He's becoming real.'
'But we're all real! At least, you are, and I suppose I am.'perhaps it won't allow you to move very fast?''I have no intention of running. There must be dignity.' Once again the set of her jaw traced the line of her descent all the way to her conquering ancestor, who preferred to move very fast at all times and knew as much about dignity as could be carried on the point of a sharp spear.Cutwell spread his hands.'All right,' he said. 'Fine. We all do what we can. I just hope Mort has come up with some ideas.''It's hard to have confidence in a ghost,' said

Claude Monet Zaandam

Claude Monet ZaandamClaude Monet Woman Seated under the WillowsClaude Monet Water-Lilies 1917
Every generation or so a few enthusiastic explorers doubted this and set out to prove it wrong. Strangely enough, none of them had ever come back to announce the result of their researches.
The following analogy would, therefore, have been meaningless to Mort.
He felt as if he'd been shipwrecked on the Titanic but in the nick of time had been rescued. By the Lusitonia.
He felt as the bookshelves. A few hours' sleep would be a good idea, too.
Then he heard a gasp, the brief patter of running feet, and the slam of a door. When he peered around the nearest bookcase there was nothing there except a stool with a couple of books though he'd thrown a snowball on the spur of the moment and watched the ensuing avalanche engulf three ski resorts.He felt history unravelling all around him.He felt he needed someone to talk to, quickly.That had to mean either Albert or Ysabell, because the thought of explaining everything to those tiny blue pinpoints was not one he cared to contemplate after a long night. On the rare occasions Ysabell deigned to look in his direction she made it clear that the only difference between Mort and a dead toad was the colour. As for Albert. . . .All right, not the perfect confidant, but definitely the best in a field of one.Mort slid down the steps and threaded his way back through

Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red Blue

Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red BlueVincent van Gogh The SowerVincent van Gogh The Night Cafe
were reacting with shouts and screams.
A GOOD CLEAN JOB, said Death. ROYALTY ARE ALWAYS A PROBLEM. THEY TEND TO WANT TO HANG ON. YOUR AVERAGE PEASANT, NOW, HE CAN'T WAIT.
'Who the hell are you?' said the king. 'What are you doing here? Eh? Guards! I deman —' The insistent message from his eyes finally battered through to his brain. Mort was impressed. King Olerve had held on to his throne for many years and, even when dead, knew how to behave. 'Oh,' he said, 'I see. I didn't expect to see you so oon.'
YOUR MAJESTY, said Death, bowing, FEW DO.
The king lookedINDEED NOT, SIRE.
'The old rope ladder and fast horse by the drawbridge trick, eh?'
SO IT WOULD APPEAR, SIRE, said Death, taking the king's shade gently around. It was quiet and dim in this shadow world, but outside there seemed to be a lot of excitement.'That's me down there, is it?'I AM AFRAID SO, SIRE.'Clean job. Crossbow, was it?'YES. AND NOW, SIRE, IF YOU WOULD —'Who did it?' said the king. Death hesitated.A HIRED ASSASSIN FROM ANKH-MORPORK, he said.'Hmm. Clever. I congratulate Sto Helit. And here's me filling myself with antidotes. No antidote to cold steel, eh? Eh?'

Thomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls

Thomas Cole Kaaterskill FallsClaude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The Luncheon
When she ran out of herbs she started on the diseases of goats, which took quite a long time because goats can catch a lot of things that cows can catch plus a lot of things plus that sheep plus catch plus a complete range of horrible Esk lay with her face in it for a moment, summoning the courage to look up. She could just see, a few feet away from her, the hem of someone's dress: Something's dress, she corrected herself. Unless it was a wing. It could be a wing, a particularly tatty and leathery one.
Her eyes followed it up until she found a face, higher than a house, outlined against the starry sky. Its owner was obviously trying to look nightmarish, but had tried too hard. The basic appearance ailments of their very own. When she had finished listing wooden udder, ear wilt and the octarine garget she tried to recall the complex code of dots and lines that they used to cut in the trees around Bad Ass, so that lost villagers could find their way on snowy nights. She was only as far as dot dot dot dash dot dash (Hub-byTurnwise, one mile from the village) when the universe around her vanished with a faint pop. She fell forward, hit something hard and gritty and rolled to a halt. The grittiness was sand. Fine, dry, cold sand. You could tell that even if you dug down several feet it would be just as cold and just as dry.

Caravaggio Judith Beheading Holofernes

Caravaggio Judith Beheading HolofernesCaravaggio Amor Vincit OmniaPierre-Auguste Cot Le Printemps
Esk nodded. Amschat strode off through the market place. At the first corner he turned, looked at her thoughtfully, and then disappeared among the crowds.
Well, that's the end of then only one thing remained. She held out a hand and closed her eyes.
She knew exactly what she wanted to do-it lay in front of her eyes. The staff mustn't come flying through the air, wrecking the barge and drawing attention to itself. All she wanted, she told herself, was for there to be a slight change in the way the world was organised. It shouldn't be a world sailing, Esk told herself. He's not quite sure but he's going to be watching me now and before I know what's happening the staff will be taken away and there'll be all sorts of trouble. Why does everyone get so upset about magicThere was the question of the staff, though. Esk had rammed it deep among the fleeces, which were not going to be unloaded yet. If she went back for it people would start asking questions, and she didn't know the answers. She found a convenient alleyway and scuttled down it until a deep doorway gave her the privacy she required. If going back was out of the question

John Collier Spring

John Collier SpringCaravaggio The Crucifixion of Saint PeterCaravaggio The Cardsharps
But the weather was hard, and this pack was hungry enough to forget all about natural selection.
Esk remembered what all the children were told. Climb a tree. Light a fire. When all else fails, find a stick and at least hurt them. Never try to outrun them.
The treeto the bedrail. The crow, who had been through all this dozens of times before and who considered, insofar as birds can consider anything, which is a very short distance indeed, that a steady diet of bacon rinds and choice kitchen scraps and a warm roost for the night was well worth the occasional inconvenience of letting Granny share its head, watched her with mild interest.
Granny found her boots and thumped down the stairs, sternly resisting the urge to glide. The door was wide open and there was already a drift of fine snow on the floor. behind her was a beech, smooth and unclimbable. Esk watched a long shadow detach itself from a pool of darkness in front of her, and move a little closer. She knelt down, tired, frightened, unable to think, and scrabbled under the burning-cold snow for a stick. Granny Weatherwax opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, which was cracked and bulged like a tent. She concentrated on remembering that she had arms, not wings, and didn't need to hop. It was always wise to lie down for a bit after a borrow, to let one's mind get used to one's body, but she knew she didn't have the time. "Drat the child," she muttered, and tried to fly on

William Bouguereau Birth of Venus

William Bouguereau Birth of VenusWilliam Bouguereau Young Gypsies
John Collier A Devonshire OrchardCao Yong Red Umbrella
!' slurred Rincewind. 'Feet! Run faster! Hey, look, they're doing it!'
'They've got more sense than you,' said Bethan. 'Which way now?'
Twoflower peered at the maze of alleyways around them. There was a lot of shouting going on, some way off.
Rincewind lurched 6ut of their grasp, and tottered uncertainly down the nearest alley.
'I can do it!' he shouted wildly. 'Just you all watch out —'
'He's in shock,' said Twoflower.
'Why?'
'He's never and suddenly a dozen star people were advancing on them.
Bethan grabbed Rincewind's limp hand and held it up threateningly.
'That's far enough!' she screamed.
'Right!' shouted Twoflower. 'We've got a wizard and we're not afraid to use him!'done a spell before.''But he's a wiizard!''It's all a bit complicated,' said Twoflower, running after Rincewind. 'Anyway, I'm not sure that was actually him. it certainly didn't sound like him. Come along, old fellow.'Rincewind looked at him with wild, unseeing eyes.'I'll turn you into a rosebush,' he said.'Yes, yes, jolly good. Just come along,' said Twoflower soothingly, pulling gently at his arm.There was a pattering of feet from several alleyways
'I mean it!' screamed Bethan, spinning Rincewind around by his arm, like a capstan

Juan Gris The Painter's Window

Juan Gris The Painter's WindowJuan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918
ave been you.' He shivered. 'It must be morning by now,' he said. 'Sod the rules, I'm taking us up. Hang on.'
'What to?' said Rincewind.
'Well, just indicate a general unwillingness to fall off,' said Belafon. He took a large iron pendulum out of his robe ten feet wide, and blueish.
'What an amazing panorama,' said Twoflower, his eyes shining.
'Um, what's keeping us up?' said Rincewind.
'Persuasion,' said Belafon, wringing out the hem of his robe.
'Ah,' said Rincewind sagely.and swung it in a series of baffling sweeps over the fire.Clouds whipped around them, there was a horrible feeling of heaviness, and suddenly the rock burst into sunlight.It levelled off a few feet above the clouds, in a cold but bright blue sky. The clouds that had seemed chillingly distant last night and horribly clammy this morning were now a fleecy white carpet, stretching away in all directions; a few mountain peaks stood out like islands. Behind the rock the wind of its passage sculpted the clouds into transient whirls. The rock—It was about thirty feet long and

Henri Matisse View of Collioure

Henri Matisse View of CollioureHenri Matisse The Painter's FamilyHenri Matisse The Blue WindowHenri Matisse Spanish Still Life
the Gods' Quarter, in Ankh-Morpork, Fate had a small, heavy, leaden temple, where hollow-eyed and gaunt worshippers met. And, then again, sometimes she didn't. She was like that. She didn't like the clicking of rosaries, but was attracted to the sound of dice. No man knew what She looked like, although there were many times when a man who was gambling his life on the turn of the cards would pick up the hand he had been dealt and stare Her full in the face. Of course, sometimes he didn't. Among all the gods she was at one and the same time the most courted and the most cursed.
"We don't have gods where I come from," said Twoflower.
"You do, you know," said the Lady."Everyone has gods. You just don't on dark nights for their predestined-and fairly pointless rites. There were no temples at all to the Lady, although she was arguably the most powerful goddess in the entire history of Creation. A few of the more daring members of the Gamblers' Guild had once experimented with a form of worship, in the deepest cellars of Guild headquarters, and had all died of penury, murder or just Death within the week. She was the Goddess Who Must Not Be Named; those who sought her never found her, yet she was known to come to the aid of those in greatest need

Andy Warhol Buttons

Andy Warhol ButtonsAndy Warhol Basket of FlowersNicolas De Stael Sky in HonfleurNicolas De Stael Noon Landscape
When he touched it the doors swung open instantly and with a disconcerting noiselessness.
Instantly sparks crackled in Twoflower's hair and there was a sudden gust of hot dry wind that didn't disturb the dust in the them. The air buzzed like a hive.was a stone chair on a raised dais, and it contained a slumped figure which did not move but said, in a brittle old voice, "Come in, young man."
Twoflower stepped forward. The figure in the seat was human, as far as he could make out in the murky light, but there was something about the awkward way it was sprawled in the chair that made him glad he couldn't see it any clearer.
"I'm dead, you know," came a voice from what
In short, there was a vast discharge of magic going on around him.
The chamber beyond the door was lit by a pale green glow. Stacked around the walls, each on its own marble shelf, were tier upon tier of coffins. In the centre of the way that ordinary wind should but, instead, whipped it up momentarily into unpleasantly half-living shapes before it settled again. In Twoflower's ears came the strange shrill twittering of the Things locked in the distant dungeon Dimensions, out beyond the fragile lattice of time and space. Shadows appeared where there was nothing to cause