this Veil of Certainty

 

 

 

The Belles,  of The OurGlass

(  Prints,  of Tides  )

 

 

Beauty held,  what She thought was Time,  Ever so tightly in Her Hand, 

     and yet All the While,  Age stole Her Smile,  for All She held,  was Sand . . .

 

 

 

from Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Fourth DoveTale – The Web of Pearls

 

 

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