London, in Silent SepiaTone

Silence in SepiaTone

To Prospero's eye, an isle of desiring, as in a welcome dreamscape, he
would seek to happily dwell. As if Ariel did ensphere the heads of the
madding crowds in too long sleep, her bejeweled capital refracts the
nascent glint of a Sun seeking to envelope Her.

And, so, amidst reddish-brown hues of the cuttlefish, Her aqueous sky's
provender, rounds our little lives with such trappings as dreams are
made on.