5th April 1671

A soft misted morning fresh with promise gave way to blue skies filled with hot air balloons and strange victorian gents riding awkward machines. My sleepy fellow travellers sprung to life as an army of hares marched past, medalled, proud and reeking of shoe polish. This town is prone to war and foolishness and holds no interest to one such as me. At the edge of town I see distant daylight stars crowding the road ahead and know I must move on.

No comments:

Post a Comment