Record: Around Noon
Sun Oxen Year & ¾ , Eighthday
It was when I pressed my hand on the crystal ball that I saw.
The moon cast her luminous strings, twisting the forest and filling the land with shadow and twilight. A night breeze made the trees dance and send their leaves to the hungry soil.
There was light coming from the top tower of the castle. A dim candle melting by the window, shaped a pale structure of the room, making the old wooden furniture look like oddly dressed tree-men. Inside the colors of gold and black painted curtains and sheets. The great chandelier on the ceiling hanged upon claret walls which carried portraits of insignificant dead folks. Intoxicating odors from the perfumes of lustful women decorated the air with a feel of decadent aristocracy.