whistling on air as somewhere in the Arctic the last glacier splits . . . smoke as sparkled up as a Faberge showroom before the last ball and ice that hisses like a sea snake in air . . . what to do . . . necromancer with her crystal ball . . . only way . . . the crystal less cloudy but a nice angel or an archangel of destruction . . . that’s the rub.
My fall series post for today published over on my Substack. It includes this photograph of a British lord who did his best to be buried as a sort of Ancient Egyptian. Thanks!
