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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