In a land beyond the sea,
Rooted beneath the earth,
Lived a wise, white lindworm.
Within his grotto could be found,
Life's trinkets and treasures to greet the weary traveller.
At first, his precise position cannot be drawn by the eye,
But instead the timbre of striking keys and scents of shades and spirits.
In the innermost of this inky pit, sits an empty canvas,
Perched proudly on its pedestal, illuminated from above.
My presence revealed, the lindworm nudges me a pallet full of pigment --
And in this camera,
My youth was composed, alla prima.