John William Waterhouse Lamia

John William Waterhouse LamiaVincent van Gogh The Yellow HouseLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the Rocks
lettuce leaf.
All my life, Brutha thought, I've known that the Great God Om-he made the holy horns sign in a fairly half-hearted way­-was a . . . a . . . great big beard in the sky, or sometimes, when He comes down into the world, as a huge bull or a lion or . . . something big, anyway. Something you could look up to.
Somehow a been . . . ill?"
The tortoise put its foot on a leaf.
"What day is it?" it said.
"Tenth of Grune," said Brutha.
"Yes? What year?"
"Er . . . Notional Serpent . . . what do you mean, what year?"
"Then . . . three years," said the tortoise. "This is good lettuce. And it's me saying it. You don't get lettuce up in the hills. A bit of plantain, a thorn bush or two. Let there be another leaf:"tortoise isn't the same. I'm trying hard . . . but it isn't the same. And hearing him talk about the SeptArchs as if they were just . . . just some mad old men . . . it's like a dream . . .In the rain-forests of Brutha's subconscious the butterfly of doubt emerged and flapped an experimental wing, all unaware of what chaos theory has to say about this sort of thing . . ."I feel a lot better now," said the tortoise. "Better than I have for months.""Months?" said Brutha. "How long have you