Jean Francois Millet Garden

Jean Francois Millet GardenHerbert James Draper Ulysses and the SirensHerbert James Draper LamiaHerbert James Draper Lament for IcarusGeorge Inness The Coming Storm
Mind you,’ he said, selecting another puffed morsel, ‘it does have a certain something, doesn’t it? They do seem right. What did you say it’s called?’
‘Hasn’t really got a name,’ said Peavie. ‘I just call it banged grains.’
Silverfish took another one. ‘Funny how you want to go on eating them,’ he said. ‘Sort of more-ish. Banged grains? Right. Anyway . . . gentlemen, let us turn the handle one more time.’
Lully of sunlight and land, waiting for us. It’s our chance, lads. We’re not allowed to make magic, we can’t make gold, we can’t even make a living - so let’s make moving pictures. Let’s make history!’
The alchemists sat back and looked more cheerful.
‘Yeah,’ said Lully. started to wind the film back into the unmagical lantern. ‘You were saying you knew a place where we could really build up the project and where the wizards wouldn’t bother us?’ he said. Silverfish grabbed a handful of banged grains. ‘It’s along the coast a way,’ he said. ‘Nice and sunny and no-one ever goes there these days. Nothing there but some wind-blown old forest and a temple and sand dunes.’ ‘A temple? Gods can get really pissed if you–’ Peavie began. ‘Look,’ said Silverfish, ‘the whole area’s been deserted for centuries. There’s nothing there. No people, no gods, no nothing. Just lots