Claude Monet A Corner of the Studio

Claude Monet A Corner of the StudioJohannes Vermeer girl with the pearl earringDiane Romanello Autumn RoadGustav Klimt Apple Tree IISalvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image
Wimsloe drew his arm back.
'I cannot! He has been kindness itself to me!'
'And you can be Death itself to him . . .'
Dafe could hear the voices a long way off. He adjusted his mask, checked the deathliness of his appearance in the mirror, and peered at the script in the empty backstage gloom.
'Cower Now, Brief Mortals,' he said. 'I Am Death, 'Gainst Who – 'Gainst Who—'
WHOM.
'Oh, thanks,'of the makeup table. His empty nostrils snuffed up the mixed smells of mothballs, grease and sweat.
There was something here, he thought, that nearly belonged to the gods. Humans had built a world inside the world, which reflected it in pretty much the same way as a drop of water reflects said the boy distractedly. ' 'Gainst Whom No Lock May Hold—'WILL HOLD.'Will Hold Nor Fasten'd Portal Bar, Here To – to – to'HERE TO TAKE MY TALLY ON THIS NIGHT OF KINGS.Dafe sagged.'You're so much better at it,' he moaned. 'You've got the right voice and you can remember the words.' He turned around. 'It's only three lines and Hwel will . . . have . . . my . . . guts . . . for.'He froze. His eyes widened and became two saucers of fear as Death snapped his fingers in front of the boy's rigid face.FORGET, he commanded, and turned and stalked silently towards the wings.His eyeless skull took in the line of costumes, the waxy debris