Franz Marc Reh im KlostergartenFranz Marc Pferd in LandschaftFranz Marc Kühe
They watched the toiling figure of Rincewind for a while, and then Conina said, 'If it comes to that, I think I lack a certain something when it comes to hairdressing.'
They both stared fixedly at the sleepwalker, busy with their own thoughts and red with mutual embarrassment.
Creosote cleared his throat.
'If it makes anyone feel better,' he said, 'I sometimes perceive that my poetry leaves a lot to be desired.'
Rincewind carefully tried to balance a large rock on a small pebble. It fell off, but he appeared to be happy with the result.. It etched itself on their eyeballs before fading away.
After a while there was a distant rumble.
'Some sort of magical weapon,' said Conina, blinking. A gust of warm wind picked up the mist and streamed it past them.
'Blow this,' said Nijel, getting to his feet. 'I'm going to wake him up, even if it'Speaking as a poet,' said Conina carefully, 'what would you say about this situation?'Creosote shifted uneasily. 'Funny old thing, life,' he said.'Pretty apt.'Nijel lay back and looked up at the hazy stars. Then he sat bolt upright.'Did you see that?' he demanded.'What?''It was a sort of flash, a kind of-’The hubward horizon exploded into a silent flower of colour, which expanded rapidly through all the hues of the conventional spectrum before flashing into brilliant octarine
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