Pop art miles on yellow

Pop art miles on yellowPop art miles on orangePop art miles davis no.8Pop art miles 1960
you reading my mind?”
“Yours?” Granny’s attention snapped back, and her voice lost its distant quality. “Hah! Flowers and suchlike. Dancing about without yer drawers on. Mucking about with cards and bits of string. And it worked, I expect. She gave you power, for a while. Oh, she must have laughed. And then there is less power and more price. And then no power, and you’re payin’ every day. They always take more than they give. And what they give has less than no value. And they end up taking everything. What they like to get from us is our fear. What they want from us most of all is our belief. If you call them, they will come. You’ll give them a channel if you call them here, at circle time, where the world’s thin Granny slapped her face, hard.
“Even you knows that’s stupid and childish,” she said.
“Now you listen to me. If you stay here, there’s to be none of
this stuff anymore. Or you can go somewhere else and find a
future, be a great lady, you’ve got the mind for it. And maybe
you’ll come back in ten years loaded down with jewels andenough to hear. The power in the Dancers is weak enough now as it is. And I’m not having the ... the Lords and Ladies back.”Diamanda opened her mouth.“I ain’t finished yet. You’re a bright girl. Lots of things you could be doing. But you don’t want to be a witch. It’s not an easy life.”“You mad old woman, you’ve got it all wrong! Elvesaren’t like that—““Don’t say the word. Don’t say the word. They come when called.”“Good! Elf, elf, elf! Elf—“