iMAGINaRY DaYS cont’d

Damsel, the character who unbeknownst to her yet is writing the story, sat in her mother’s library. Sadly she had grown a beard and was awaiting the arrival of half a scientist who was labouring in the twenty-fourth volume from the left, second shelf up – strictly speaking he was less than half of a scientist for he was quite as thin as a page – but was much preoccupied with digesting his breakfast of faded ink on white toast and contemplating the pressed ladybug upon his necktie as evidence of issues one day demanding his more involved attention.

fUrthEr to BE contInued when the MeRRy-go-RouNd tells THE tiMe

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