[ the silence steeps. and then, it comes with a sketch - canopy greens and sanguine purples and rendered with care. ]
I think that would be the starting point. I built a palace, you see. It's called the Palace of the Alcazarzaray. I had a dream about it, and I took that dream and made it into reality. It was real, and for a moment, I could even call it mine. If you were to descend into the Sumeran jungle and past the wending cliffs, you would see its green canopy rise from above the treetops. It's a fourteen-room palace built on a cliff held together by the roots of an ancient tree with a pagoda and a guest house on its grounds. It's green and wreathed in padisarahs. In the evenings, the moonlight trickles in through the stained glass windows to dye the Natlan marble floors green and blue - in the mornings, sunlight strikes off the waterfall backdrop to scatter mist-rainbows over its gardens. So when I think of pride in my work, I always think of that palace. I don't know if I can ever build something like that again; I've always wondered if that was a blessing or a curse in of itself. But perhaps I ought to be simply glad that the palace exists, and will continue to exist long after I am gone. Ah, I'm rambling. Sorry about that - this is getting overly long. I've attached a sketch to better illustrate what I'm talking about. I don't know if that helps.
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I think that would be the starting point. I built a palace, you see. It's called the Palace of the Alcazarzaray. I had a dream about it, and I took that dream and made it into reality. It was real, and for a moment, I could even call it mine.
If you were to descend into the Sumeran jungle and past the wending cliffs, you would see its green canopy rise from above the treetops. It's a fourteen-room palace built on a cliff held together by the roots of an ancient tree with a pagoda and a guest house on its grounds. It's green and wreathed in padisarahs. In the evenings, the moonlight trickles in through the stained glass windows to dye the Natlan marble floors green and blue - in the mornings, sunlight strikes off the waterfall backdrop to scatter mist-rainbows over its gardens.
So when I think of pride in my work, I always think of that palace. I don't know if I can ever build something like that again; I've always wondered if that was a blessing or a curse in of itself. But perhaps I ought to be simply glad that the palace exists, and will continue to exist long after I am gone.
Ah, I'm rambling. Sorry about that - this is getting overly long. I've attached a sketch to better illustrate what I'm talking about. I don't know if that helps.