How L shed tears and Bron did not cry 

The song to accompany this 
Text; you may listen and read
At the same instant for the full meaning or feeling rather. 
Or separately 

So what is it?

B strode up to the drawing.

Well it’s a diagram of my feelings.

My stomach spewed it up so to speak -

Out of my memory -

All my past and future in 

One place - neat hey?

Oh well done old chap - another great art work for

History no doubt.

Ha ha it’s not thaaat good -

He chortled and snatched the paper from the desk and

Tossed it unceremoniously

Into a heap of drawings and

Paintings in the corner

Of the room.

They were in the top floor of

The house, more like a small palace. Outside were

Ornate gardens sunken ponds and rather neat lawns with shrubs beyond 

Which were great poplars 

And massive conifers lost

In a purplish haze of smoke.

The low sun created a dark

Aura over the distant horizon. A twite hopped along a branch just outside

The mullioned window and

B scratched at a red weal

On her neck. The recent 

Minor wound was healing 

But was going to leave

A scar. Scimitar or similar, 

She punned to herself her 

Lips mouthing the words silently.

Is it going to be a chariot?

She asked L who was now 

Fiddling with a sable brush.

He dabbed a bit of crimson

Lake onto an oak panel.

Yeah, course.

It will skim across lakes and 

Convert into a sledge when

Crossing flat land. It shall

Float up to and not beyond

A height of twelve good yards. I think it’s a definite 

Goer. This time I think I 

Have invented a good machine. 

It shall also double as a beehive and a shed for the 

Donkeys and smaller horses. It can just sit in the 

Outer yard, by the big barn when not in use.

It will have two special control rooms. And a large 

Raised platform for viewing

And generally taking air or

Playing games or just sitting and thinking. It will have several capacious 

Pouches for goods and 

Will also host my new idea

For navigation - wait for it!

B stopped rubbing her scar -

Go on, what the ‘ell is it? Tell

Us will tha! Ga on!

Ha ha, it’s a flippin triumph.

A sack containing shiny things that glow a dull orange. Black silica sand that seems inert but doth 

Hold all knowledge of numbers each number, a tiny code of an idea. Top math drives it’s desires!

All our hope will last forever

Caught, even trapped in there like tiny doors each one a sepulchre a black 

Hole a friable and versatile

Soil. It will just kill the opposition ha ha. 

Jesus wept and Hell’s Bells.

But will it produce music?

More than music mate - 

Leonardo spun 365 degrees making his frilly shirt balloon - it will keep

A record of your friends addresses and their names.

Plus it will manage to tell

You the weather - and allow

You to write things in a new way.

Tears fell from his eyes -

It’s a big mistake..

Now I regret everything...

I realise Tis the devil in the codex...

The best I can conjure from my cerebrum today. I love them both but they make mistakes too.


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