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Sunday doodles.

The last candle.

The last candle.

Small and close, cry loose, cry lost.

Small and close, cry loose, cry lost.

For you: the flower garden.

For you: the flower garden.

Yindra and the river.

Yindra and the river.

"The records say that the original casters were lost children," explained the Keeper. "The fish would guide them home. And then of course the spells were cast too often and too strongly, and now the fish are stuck."

"No one to guide the guides," said the spellmaker, sounding amused. "Well, who says fish must live in water? I like them like this."

"The records say that the original casters were lost children," explained the Keeper. "The fish would guide them home. And then of course the spells were cast too often and too strongly, and now the fish are stuck."

"No one to guide the guides," said the spellmaker, sounding amused. "Well, who says fish must live in water? I like them like this."

Your finger upon the world; your smile behind your back.

Let the mountains fall.

Let the mountains fall.

The singing sea, its crying gulls.

The singing sea, its crying gulls.