Caravaggio The Conversion on the Way to Damascus

Caravaggio The Conversion on the Way to DamascusCaravaggio The AnnunciationCaravaggio Sleeping CupidCaravaggio Lute Player
can't see it myself.'
'I think I can. And you like the city, sir.'
'Well, yes. But if it was a choice between banishment and having my head chopped off, just help me down with this suitcase. No, we're well rid of kings. But, I mean . . . the city used to work.'
'Still does,' said Carrot.
They passed the Assassins' Guild and drew level with the high, forbidding walls of the Fools' Guild, which occupied the other corner of the block.
'No, it just keeps'The Post Office,' corrected Vimes. 'My granddad said that once you could post a letter there and if d be delivered within a month, without fail. You didn't have to give it to a passing dwarf and hope the little bugger wouldn't eat it before . . .'
His voice trailed off. going. I mean, look up there.'Carrot obediently raised his gaze.There was a familiar building on the junction of Broad Way and Alchemists. The façade was ornate, but covered in grime. Gargoyles had colonized it.The corroded motto over the portico said 'NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW NOR GLOM OF NIT CAN STAY THESE MESENGERS ABOT THIER DUTY' and in more spacious days that may have been the case, but recently someone had found it necessary to nail up an addendum which read:DONT ARSK US ABOUT: rocks troll's with sticks All sorts of dragons Mrs Cake Huje green things with teeth Any kinds of black dogs with orange eyebrows Rains of spaniel's. fog.Mrs Cake>'Oh,' he said. 'The Royal Mail.'