Thousand: Five Hundred Twenty-Eight

the brain pan? The music of the spheres.” So what if it doesn’t last? What does? Jack knows something about those cheap tapestries, you can tell. The knights, ardently beaming through lifted visor at the blonde ladies wearing conical beribboned hats and shaking handkerchiefs in dainty fingers; the unicorn in a paddock placidly chewing; Jonah popping out of (or into) a bearded whale; Jesus slapping around moneylenders; a pug-faced lion cuddling up with a droopy-eyed lamb. Colors clashing and bleeding. Unmended tears. But when Jack gets up and steps up to trace the lamb’s muzzle, his fingers sliding just under