Without knowing it we have crossed a magic line in time. We had been in the dark age of iron. It seemed to last forever.
Then one night the stars were brighter. A blue and orange fragrance floated in the air. It had a hint of saffron. Children in the poor district saw at dawn blinding flashes of a yellow angel’s wings.
That morning we felt a tingling sensation in our feet. A mermaid with a piercing voice was singing in the far reaches of the Thames. A beggar was seen levitating at dusk on the outskirts of the city.
From the graveyard the skull of a dead poet was reciting forgotten terza rimas in reverse. An alchemist on a barge turned a dead pigeon into gold with a black powder. His incantations were impressive.
But in the street, one afternoon, the simple miracle took place. A woman laced in blues and reds sprouted dark beautiful wings, under the astonished gaze of a gypsy child.
The age of iron is over. The age of magic has begun.
Unveil your eyes.