Death sat in the back room of the west wing of her Fathers house, clad in clothes for Good work, her iridescent cloak of many colours wrapped her and her crown coned for power. Out side the winds spun, the air crisp and refreshing, the coolness flows through her the matter scattered around, gold, brown, fiery orange and red, green splattered too.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
I have four minutes to say what ever I want. 3 now, the more you learn the more you don't know, and I'm curious about how much I don't know, it's a fascinating way to live ones life, always knowing you don't know anything, so you go and get to know it, because it's in your nature.
Botsalottabegone
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