ORCHIL I dreamed of Orchil, the dim goddess who is under the brown earth in a vast cavern, where she weaves at two looms. With one hand, she weaves life upward through the grass. With the other, she weaves death downward through the mould; and the sound of the weaving is Eternity, and the name of it in the green world is Time. And, through all, Orchil weaves the weft of Eternal Beauty, that passeth not, though her soul is Change...Fiona Macleod Detail of waxed paper, mounted in glass. The light shines through the image.
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