Re: [At the Carnival]
[Oliver was reason and heartbeat and the blood-rush through pulse points. Jude stood and watched Oli tow red-painted boy toward him with the twist of cool fingers wrapped 'round brother's palm as quietly evident as picture postcard sent from seashore, 'hello, the weather's fine, I've found company, you'll love him'. Jude absorbed expanse of time suggested by mentions-multiple and the absence of own knowledge in the in-between with warm smile echo-slow to match one ready for Sundays. His palm was warm, the handshake suitable for family introductions.
Kept tongue in his head on the advantage this presented Misha, boy-fiddler.] And now there's faces to names and names to faces and we're delightfully abreast of new developments. [Jude didn't know sham-show was for personal benefit, that tiny con was performance to dissemble. He knew the look he'd caught on the way in, exchange as filament-bright as tiny lantern and oh, Oliver happy was blessing all by itself, so why wasn't it bounty piled at feet?]
I liked the show, sunshine. Has Oli traded you paint for music yet?