Frida Kahlo Fulang Chang and I

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Although not common on the Discworld there are, indeed, such things as anti-crimes, in accordance with the fundamental law that everything in the multiverse has an opposite. They are, obviously, rare. Merely giving someone ‘ Nice,’ he said.
‘Fred?’
Colon, fascinated, watched the little snowflakes far inside the tiny glass globe.’Hmm?’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Dunno. I suppose they’re yours, Throat. Can something is not the opposite of robbery; to be an antierime, it has to be done in such a way as to cause outrage ?Pn~Uor? humiliation to the victim. So there is breaking-and-decorating, proffering-with-embarrassment (as in most retirement presentations) and whitemailing (as in threatening to reveal to his enemies a mobster’s secret donations, for example, to charity). Anti-crimes have never really caught on.Sergeant Colon turned the object round and round in his hands. ‘Never seen one of these before, ‘ he said. He gave a shake. His face lit up.’Pretty, ain’t they?’‘The door was locked and everything,’ said Throat ‘And I ‘m paid up with the Thieves’ Guild.’Colon shook the thing again.

William Bouguereau Jeune Bergere Debout

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er, I‑‘ Victor began.
‘I can bitecrackled from his fingers, and there was a greasy feel to the air that even student wizards soon learned to associate with a vast accumulation of magical potential. And there was fog in the pit. It was ridiculous, but there it was, covering the floor like a pale silver tide.
He shook Ginger’s shoulder. He waved a hand in front of her eyes. He shouted in her ear.
Then he tried the Patrician, and Dibbler. They yielded to pressure but swayed gently back into position again.
‘The film’s doing something to them,’ he said. ‘It must be the film. But I can’t see how. It’s a perfectly ordinary film. We don’t use magic in Holy Wood. At least . . . not normal magic it quite hard,’ Gaspode added. ‘Just say the word.’‘No, er‑‘‘Something’s boding, just like I said. Bode, bode, bode. Laddie’s tried barkin’ until he’s hoarse and no‑one’s listenin’. So I fort I’d try the old cold nose technique. Never fails.’Victor looked around him. The rest of the audience were staring at the screen as if they were prepared to remain in their seats for . . . for . . .. . . forever.When he lifted up his arms from his seat, sparks

Nicolas De Stael Noon Landscape

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trick was to do magic and get away with it.
Because it room in some cheap building in some town that was about as real as, as, as, well, as the thickness of a click. It wasn’t the place to have thoughts like this.
The important thing was to remember that Holy Wood wasn’t a real place at all.
He stared at the posters again. You just get one chance, she said. You live for maybe seventy years, and if you’re lucky you get one chance. Think of all the natural skiers who are born in deserts. Think of all the genius blacksmiths who were born hundreds of years before anyone invented the horsewas as if the human race was a field of corn and magic helped the users grow just that bit taller, so that they stood out. That attracted the attention of the gods and - Victor hesitated - other Things. outside this world. People who used magic without knowing what they were doing usually came to a sticky end. All over the entire room, sometimes. He pictured Ginger, back on the beach. I want to be the most famous person in the whole world. Perhaps that was something new, come to think of it. Not ambition for gold, or power, or land or all the things that were familiar parts of the human world. Just ambition to be yourself, as big as possible. Not ambition for, but to be. He shook his head. He was just in some

Claude Monet Bank of the Seine Vetheuil

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towards them.
He rounded the zebra pens and homed in on his assistant M’Bu, who was peacefully mucking out the ostriches.
‘How many-’ he stopped, and began to wheeze.
M’Bu, who was twelve years old, dropped his shovel and patted him heavily on the back.
‘How many-’ he tried again.
‘You been
‘Someone want elephants, boss?’
‘-got fifteen head, he was telling me, plus also there’s a load at the logging camp probably going cheap, call it two dozen-’
‘Someone want a lot of elephants, boss?’
‘-was saying there’s a herd over T’etse way, shouldn’t be a problemoverdoing it again, boss?’ said M’Bu in a concerned voice. ‘How many elephants we got?’ ‘I just done them,’ said M’Bu. ‘We got three.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, boss,’ said M’Bu, evenly. ‘It’s easy to be sure, with elephants.’ Azhural crouched in the red dust and hurriedly began to scrawl figures with a stick. ‘Old Muluccai’s bound to have half a dozen,’ he muttered. ‘And Tazikel’s usually got twenty or so, and then the people on the delta generally have-’

Francois Boucher The Interrupted Sleep

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into a narrow alley.
Victor searched among the usual alley debris for a while until he found a piece of scrap paper. Then he rolled up his sleeves.
He watched a man in a long black cloak, a black hat and a moustache like a yard brush tie a girl to one of the trees. No-one seemed interested in stopping him, even though she was struggling. A couple of people were in fact watching disinterestedly, and there was a man standing And only then did he inspect the fence carefully until he found a couple of loose boards that, with a bit of effort, let him through. This brought him into an area stacked with lumber and piles of cloth. There was no-one around. Walking purposefully, in the knowledge that no-one with their sleeves rolled up who walks purposefully with a piece of paper held conspicuously in their hand is ever challenged, he set out across the wood and canvas wonderland of Interesting and Instructive Kinematography. There were buildings painted on the back of other buildings. There were trees that were trees, at the front, and just a mass of struts at the back. There was a flurry of activity although, as far as Victor could see; no-one was actually producing anything.

Andy Warhol Neuschwanstein

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by a raised block, with a blanket and a pillow on it.
Neither of them looked particularly old. It was almost disappointing.
Gern craned to look around.
'Quite nice, really,' he said. 'Comfy.'
'No,' said , showing what Dil considered to be unnecessary enthusiasm.
'No. It's one of the really ancient dialects. Can't make out a blessed hieroglyph,' said Teppicymon. 'I shouldn't think there's a single person alive today who can read it.'
'That's a shame,' said Gern.
'True enough,' said the king, and sighed. They stood in gloomy silence.
'So perhaps we could ask one of the dead ones?' said Gern.
'Er. Gern,' said Dil, backing away.Dil. 'Hey, master king, look here,' said Gern, trotting over to one of the walls. 'Look. Someone's been scratching things. Look, all little lines all over the wall.' 'And this wall,' said the king, 'and the floor. Someone's been counting. Every ten have been crossed through, you see. Someone's been counting things. Lots of things.' He stood back. 'What things?' said Dil, looking behind him. 'Very strange,' said the king. He leaned forward. 'You can barely make out the inscriptions underneath.' 'Can you read it, king?' said Gern

Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981

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seemed to be taken pretty bad there-' Arthur began. Teppic waved his hands dismissively.
'Look,' he said, 'please, I don't want anyone sensibly pointing out things. I don't want anyone telling me I should rest. None of it 'Well, thirty per cent honest,' Chidder admitted, 'which is a lot more honest than most. You'd better tell me how you know. Extremely quickly.'
'I - don't know,' said Teppic. 'When I was . . . asleep, it seemed I knew everything. Everything about everything. I think my father is dead.'matters. I will be back in the kingdom as soon as possible. It's not a case of must, you understand. I will. And you can help me, Chiddy.' 'How?' 'Your father has an extremely fast vessel he uses for smuggling,' said Teppic flatly. 'He will lend it to me, in exchange for favourable consideration of future trading opportunities. If we leave inside the hour, it will do the journey in plenty of time.' 'My father is an honest trader!' 'On the contrary. Seventy per cent of his income last year was from undeclared trading in the following commodities-' Teppic's eyes stared into nothingness - 'From illegal transport of gullanes and leuchars, nine per cent. From night-running of untaxed-'