Looking about me, I did indeed see Borasco, the North Wind who carried a drum, and Sirocco, the South Wind, blowing merrily on a horn. As I called a greeting to both winds, one guard leaned down to scratch at his leg and this reporter quickly plunged towards the City.
And a beautiful city it was! As I plummeted towards the raised domiciles of the inhabitants, I could not help but be impressed by the architecture, the notes of music that floated up to me (or perhaps I was floating down to them…), and noticed an immense wall rising at one end of the city, so amazing in its height, one can only imagine the wind would be able to climb such a height!
Lucky for this reporter, I dropped directly into a decorative pool of water in the ‘yard’ of this lovely house, my very life saved by this house’s designer and owners. After a good deal of sputtering, I pulled myself out to the surface and out of the pool, intending to thank the young Winged One nearby.
“MOMMA! MOMMA! IT’S GOT NO WINGS!” The little girl was distraught by my obvious humanness.
Explanations were cut off by a very protective and maternal woman swatting me with a broom and saying something to the affect of, “Off of my house, you heathen ugly human!”
Having little other choice, I was again pushed off into the air and left to my own flying devices. Of which, I am sad to say, dear reader, I had none. Poor preparation on my part. But as luck would have it, a passing giant eagle took pity on my plight of flight, swooped in, saved my life and deposited this well-roved reporter on the famed Artist Boulevard! What a morning this was indeed!
And, ah, the wonders of the Artisans of the Winged Ones! Surrounded by poets, some lost in their search for inspiration, others scribbling madly, having found theirs; musicians strummed and beat and blew their instruments in a cacophony of melody; painters studied their works, made adjustments, and measured their models. Merchants abounded, so attempts were made to uncover information on the economy and lifestyle of the sellers. The expedition uncovered a few choice quotes:
Jewelry merchant: “Your money’s no good here, human!”
Fabric merchant: “Do not touch! You soil! Leave now!”
Food merchant: “Your smell! It is a-stinking up-a my food! You leave-a now!”
Also brought to attention were my ungainly anatomy, my lack of intelligence, my wretched and wet state of dress, and how I generally constituted a source of great amusement. It must be mentioned that one passer-by tossed me a coin and
expressed his pity. Undaunted, this reporter pressed onward:
A protective winged mother
such a lovely and rich city, after all, well-deserved description and exploration!
To one side, three muses sat by themselves, unearthly in both their beauty and ability, as they played a harmony more enchanting than that of the ogre’s golden harp (or so I’ve heard). Stopping to hear them play, the enchantment of the tune refreshed all who listened, wings or none. They smiled pleasantly upon me and for once, I found no harsh words to greet my presence.
At the end of the wide road rose an enormous and magnificent stage, the likes of which have never been seen in Daventry! The seats rose up from the circular stage below, allowing a splendid view from any spot. A backdrop behind the stage was tastefully decorated, as a few Winged Ones tailored costumes and scenery off to one side, while others ran lines. I discovered they were beginning rehearsals for Othello, and was informed it would be going up for performance in a few months, but don’t bother coming back for the show, please, thank you, goodbye, get out, guards, please deal with this insolent land-bound creature.
story continued on page 13
