Mark Rothko White over Red

Paul Klee Fire in the Evening
What do you mean, and then what?"
Brutha looked out glumly at the darkening court­yard.
"Believe in the Great God Om or be stricken with thunderbolts," he said.
"Sounds good to me."
"Is that how it always has to be?"
The last rays of the sun glinted off the statue in the center of the courtyard. It was vaguely feminine. There was a penguin perched on one shoulder.
"Patina, Goddess of Wisdom," said Brutha. "The one with a penguin. Why a penguin?"
"Can't imagine," little stroll. We will take the evening air."
"Yes, lord."
"You have enjoyed your visit to Ephebe."
Vorbis seldom asked a question if a statement would do.said Om hurriedly."Nothing wise about penguins, is there?""Shouldn't think so. Unless you count the fact that you don't get them in Omnia. Pretty wise of them.""Brutha!""That's Vorbis," said Brutha, standing up. "Shall I leave you here?""Yes. There's still some melon. I mean loaf."Brutha wandered out into the dusk.Vorbis was sitting on a bench under a tree, as still as a statue in the shadows.Certainty, Brutha thought. I used to be certain. Now I'm not so sure."Ah, Brutha. You will accompany me on a
"It has been . . . interesting."
Vorbis put one hand on Brutha's shoulder and used the other to haul himself