He was tall, pale, slender. His
Acute frame was covered in black
Robes, his long neck wrapped in a thick
Red-to-gold scarf with fringe. A snow-white owl
Yapped on his left arm, its eyes boring holes into the boy's
blank round glasses.
Perhaps it was winter, for behind him was a veil of white
Or summer, where his unevenly parted hair gleamed a ray of light.
To determine his setting, was an act of
The impossible, for he himself was
Evanescing from the bare picture.
Riddikulus, it was.
