In days of yore.

In those far off, long gone, days of yore, darkness and mystery, before the world went mad with instant and constant communication, people walking or driving around with little talking boxes glued to their ears, there lived humans who actually sat and thought about things. Meditated on life, and such things as what makes the sun set, what makes the moon rise? (Does anyone know that song?... one of my favourites!). I would sit there for hours casting my spells, (antidisestablishmentarianism, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious) until some great artist decided to record the event for posterity. You can tell how old the portrait is by all the cracks in the pigment. I did not know I was sitting until it was finished, three weeks later. This was in an Ascalonions previous visit.