Marc Chagall The FiddlerPaul Gauguin AreareaGeorges Seurat Sunday Afternoon on the Island of la Grande JatteUnknown Artist Jasper Johns three flags
and she swayed. Will was ahead of her, just too far to reach, or she might have taken his hand; but at that moment she was more conscious of Roger, and a little flicker of vanity blazed up for a moment in her heart. There'd been an occasion once on Jordan when just to frighten him, she'd defied her vertigo and walked along the edge of the was nothing she could do: her weight shifted, the stones moved under her feet, and helplessly she began to slide. In the first moment it was annoying, and then it was comic: How silly! she thought. But as she utterly failed to hold on to anything, as the stones rolled and tumbled beneath her, as she slid down toward the edge, gathering speed, the horror of it slammed into her. She was going to fall. There was nothing to stop her. It was already too late.
Her body convulsed with terror. She wasn't aware of the ghosts who flung stone gutter.She looked back to remind him of it now. She was Roger's Lyra, full of grace and daring; she didn't need to creep along like an insect.But the little boy's whispering voice said, "Lyra, be careful, remember, you en't dead like us...”And it seemed to happen so slowly, but there