“To be a man, you must climb to the mountain top!”

I find a broken circle of blue azurite stones.

“Like the blind telling the sighted there are no colors.”

“It’s definitely trapped in amber,” she says, examining the mystery inclusion. “Millions of years old.”

If he’s the garish peacock strutting in jester’s garb, then I’m the dull hen in alchemist robes.

“You think so, Author?” asks her muse.

“My medium, paradox. My canvas, the multiverse!”

“You’re most unusual doctors!”

“Climb aboard, lovely! We’ve got far to go!”