You make them yourself?" It was my mother's trade. I'm good, but this is crude compared to some of the ones my mother made. She was an artist. Wizards...and rich folk for miles around mourned her loss when she passed on." Taking a deep breath, Celes sat the candle on the table and concentrated for a moment. The wick lit with a little pop and burned cheerily."It works!" Celes laughed.The light scent of the candle, reminding Danica of the scent of the air after a spring shower in a field of. ’ I took advantage of a moment of distraction to gain his attention and I hold onto his hand while the others listened intently to a vulgar, but very eloquently spoken poet. They were all jeering and jiving as his poem intricately wove a web of Mother Nature being whored out by humanity. His message was powerful, but I could only invest half of my attention. Murphy: ‘What about?’ Ananda: ‘Everything.’ Murphy: ‘And if there’s nothing?’ Ananda: ‘I never pegged you for a liar, Murphy.’ Murphy:. More

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