Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et Procris

Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get MarriedWilliam Beard Phantom CraneWilliam Beard Owls
thought that counted.
M’Bu trotted up the path towards him, his clipboard held firmly under one arm.
‘Everything ready, boss,’ he said. ‘You just got to say the word.’
Azhural drew , even here.
Azhural raised his staff.
‘It’s fifteen hundred miles to Ankh-Morpork,’ he said. ‘We’ve got three hundred and sixty-three elephants, fifty carts of forage, the monsoon’s about to break and we’re wearing . . . we’re wearing . . . sort of things, like glass, only dark . . . dark glass things on our eyes . . . ‘ His voice trailed off. His brow furrowed, as if he’d just been listening to his own voice and hadn’t understood it. ‘
The air seemed to glitter. himself up. He looked around at the heaving plain, the distant baobab trees, the purple mountains. Oh, yes. The mountains. He’d had misgivings about the mountains. He’d mentioned them to M’Bu, who said, ‘We’ll cross them bridges when we get to ‘em, boss,’ and when Azhural had pointed out that there weren’t any bridges, had looked him squarely in the eye and said firmly, ‘First we build them bridge, then we cross ‘em.’ Far beyond the mountains was the Circle Sea and Ankh-Morpork and this Holy Wood place. Far-away places with strange sounding names. A wind blew across the veldt, carrying faint whispers