Dana is smoking a cigarette. You can’t see it, but if you look closely, you can make out the smoke. He stands in front of a poster that he made when he was a display artist at Tower Records. He wears a Nirvana tee shirt. A sample of the clutter that is the bane of my existence can be seen on the right.
When Princess Pirouette entered the Throne Room, it erupted into a cacophony of whispers. To the Princess’ ear, it sounded much like the hissing of a hundred snakes. She immediately curtsied, walked a dozen paces on the red carpet and then curtsied again. She did her best not to look at the King, who was exceedingly old. His snow white hair fell loosely upon his shoulders. A matching beard flowed down to the center of his chest.
Extending a gnarled, arthritic hand, he said, “Welcome to my court, little lamb.”
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