Bonded ox-hairs wet into a smear of ashen-pearl. Victor muses over his listless subject… her flat-sable gaze and overwhelming pungency. Over peaked shades of plum, he delicately strokes, asserting the translucence of her skin. THUDDD!!! She topples hard from the chaise. Victor unwieldy jigs across his canvas, cursing, “Thorns and nails!”
“Yyyyyg! Fetch more rope forthwith. And a tighter knot this time!” singing smartly.