There was an update, and visions of sparkling velvet.
Birds swooped on every plate as the guests left, hoping for at least one course of fine dining.
The musicians had described an arc of styles running from primeval to super-future-blues.
Lacing the pages of digital creation together, bound with silk and leather.
Non-leather bindings for vegans, and integrated circuit ones for tech-addicts.
Drawing signs of myopic journeys and widescreen ironing boards, we swept up the crumbs and put the old kettle on the hob.
A nursery rhyme, a dime.
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