A Creative Escape


Kate was a wondrous sight. The wood was green as mosses of the Icy Glen. The trees stood high and haughty, feeling their living sap the industrious earth beneath was as a weaver’s loom, with a gorgeous carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine tendrils formed the warp and woof, and the living flowers the figures. All the trees, with all their laden branches – all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message carrying air all these unceasingly were active. Through the lacings of the leaves, the great sun seemed a flying shuttle weaving the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy weaver! Unseen weaver whither flows the fabric. What palace may it deck? wherefore all these ceaseless toilings. One single word with thee the shuttle flies the figures float from forth the loom; the freshet-rushing carpet for ever slides away. Oh, busy weaver!


Among many other fine qualities, my royal friend Tranquo, being gifted with a devout love for all matters of barbaric vertu, had brought together in Pupella whatever rare things the more ingenious of his people could invent; chiefly carved woods of wonderful devices, chiselled shells, inlaid spears, costly paddles & aromatic canoes. All these distributed among whatever natural wonders, the wonder-freighted, tribute-rendering waves had cast upon his shores. Sperm Whale among these latter was a great whale after an unusually long raging gale, had been found dead and stranded, with his head against a cocoa-nut tree, whose plumage-like, tufted droopings seemed his verdant jet. And sea coopers blacksmiths, and harpooneers, and ship keepers a brown brawny company with bosky beards.

Special Thanks to Zoey.

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