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08/16/2020
Mikadomann
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Mikadomann
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29
"A little over it, or...?"
The rod hits the ground three times.
"LE ROI!!!"
Again, the staff.
Clothes rustle and shoes drag across the polished wooden floor in a skilfully safe arc when those present bow.
The party begins. Sultry heat in the hall. Of candles. Air saturated with perfume and oil. Hardly any wind through the open windows. Summer night air outside.
A murmur. The king enters.
Gold, white, yellow Right behind him:
A... What? ... Etagere?
Man-sized. Oh! Three times as tall as a man!
On wheels. Pushed, pulled, guided by four lackeys.
Music
Sighing, murmuring, a cry suppressed behind a cloth.
"Mon dieu! Has that been...?"
On four levels over and overflowing with flowers, fruits.
Like the king's skirt and shoes: white, yellow, gold Four figures, one on each side of the second floor.
You'd think... so naturally they are worked.
All of a sudden the room smells like a spring field in the garden.
Where white flowers grow unrestrained. At the back of the gardens. Where the gardeners artistically arrange it in such a way that it looks as if no garden master had interfered with nature. Where the best make it look as if they had never been there Full of lilies of the valley. Full-blooming jasmine. Buttercup.
Iris. And full-blooded jasmine. And roses Pale yellow between daffodils. Gorse. Thousands of flowers. Here in cascades falling like water over the floors of this magnificent carriage
In between. Really water. A fountain on the upper surface. Sprinkle water over this flowerage. Makes them smell fresher. Lighter. Or does the water itself smell? It flows into the bowl that holds one of the figures...
"I'm gonna faint!"
"The smell robs me...!" "The world loves me - and I love me too!"
"Duc!"
"Viscount?"
"I can hardly breathe!"
"Mais au contraire! I can only breathe now!"
Gently woody-resinous smoke trails rise. Thinly they ripple in the air, get caught in the flowers. Perish. Spicy and fresh. Perhaps the heavy sweetness makes it bearable at first. Cool the sultriness. Like a light breeze. Carried from the forest, it seems. Fir resinous.
"Take my glass and see!"
"What?"
"Behold the figure. There! On the corner there, next to the one with the bowl. And that one there too!!!"
"...!!"
The marble, which was just a few moments ago, slowly, hardly noticeably, brings the fruit to the mouth. Juicy sweet peach. Runs down the lips, chin, throat. Then: another yellow fruit. Also bursting full of the yellow, fresh juice.
And there! The Stones!!!
She too...bites, kisses and tastes the fruit...
Which fruit is that?
"Je ne sais pas..."
Pineapplemirabelle passion fruit taffy apricot mangoeine-claude nectarine and all yellow unknowns together, into each other... and all nectar! Heavenly! Fruity Sweet and fresh
Mentholated freshness again. Almost the car with the Etagere is over. Smoke is rising above the water basin. Smiling and uninvolved, the stone chiseler who carries it blows sweet wood smoke over the crowd which now closes behind the wagon with disbelief in his gaze and attitude.
The king stands in the middle of the hall. Smiling contentedly behind the carriage Then turns to the quantity.
Noise, loops.
The staff.
"LE ROI DANSE!"
...
"CUT! We got the scene!"
"A little excessive, I think. A bit over... A bit overdone, isn't it?" "Yes! In fact:
Overdose! ... Exactly correct! "
"LE ROI!!!"
Again, the staff.
Clothes rustle and shoes drag across the polished wooden floor in a skilfully safe arc when those present bow.
The party begins. Sultry heat in the hall. Of candles. Air saturated with perfume and oil. Hardly any wind through the open windows. Summer night air outside.
A murmur. The king enters.
Gold, white, yellow Right behind him:
A... What? ... Etagere?
Man-sized. Oh! Three times as tall as a man!
On wheels. Pushed, pulled, guided by four lackeys.
Music
Sighing, murmuring, a cry suppressed behind a cloth.
"Mon dieu! Has that been...?"
On four levels over and overflowing with flowers, fruits.
Like the king's skirt and shoes: white, yellow, gold Four figures, one on each side of the second floor.
You'd think... so naturally they are worked.
All of a sudden the room smells like a spring field in the garden.
Where white flowers grow unrestrained. At the back of the gardens. Where the gardeners artistically arrange it in such a way that it looks as if no garden master had interfered with nature. Where the best make it look as if they had never been there Full of lilies of the valley. Full-blooming jasmine. Buttercup.
Iris. And full-blooded jasmine. And roses Pale yellow between daffodils. Gorse. Thousands of flowers. Here in cascades falling like water over the floors of this magnificent carriage
In between. Really water. A fountain on the upper surface. Sprinkle water over this flowerage. Makes them smell fresher. Lighter. Or does the water itself smell? It flows into the bowl that holds one of the figures...
"I'm gonna faint!"
"The smell robs me...!" "The world loves me - and I love me too!"
"Duc!"
"Viscount?"
"I can hardly breathe!"
"Mais au contraire! I can only breathe now!"
Gently woody-resinous smoke trails rise. Thinly they ripple in the air, get caught in the flowers. Perish. Spicy and fresh. Perhaps the heavy sweetness makes it bearable at first. Cool the sultriness. Like a light breeze. Carried from the forest, it seems. Fir resinous.
"Take my glass and see!"
"What?"
"Behold the figure. There! On the corner there, next to the one with the bowl. And that one there too!!!"
"...!!"
The marble, which was just a few moments ago, slowly, hardly noticeably, brings the fruit to the mouth. Juicy sweet peach. Runs down the lips, chin, throat. Then: another yellow fruit. Also bursting full of the yellow, fresh juice.
And there! The Stones!!!
She too...bites, kisses and tastes the fruit...
Which fruit is that?
"Je ne sais pas..."
Pineapplemirabelle passion fruit taffy apricot mangoeine-claude nectarine and all yellow unknowns together, into each other... and all nectar! Heavenly! Fruity Sweet and fresh
Mentholated freshness again. Almost the car with the Etagere is over. Smoke is rising above the water basin. Smiling and uninvolved, the stone chiseler who carries it blows sweet wood smoke over the crowd which now closes behind the wagon with disbelief in his gaze and attitude.
The king stands in the middle of the hall. Smiling contentedly behind the carriage Then turns to the quantity.
Noise, loops.
The staff.
"LE ROI DANSE!"
...
"CUT! We got the scene!"
"A little excessive, I think. A bit over... A bit overdone, isn't it?" "Yes! In fact:
Overdose! ... Exactly correct! "
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