their vernaculous and mother tongues
Where ys Sir Launcelot? seyde King Arthure. And he were here, he wolde nat grucche to do batayle for you.
Where ys Sir Launcelot?
And he were here, he wolde nat grucche to do batayle for you.
This is a text centrally about a girl who is herself an illusionistic artwork: her white skin is the canvas upon which a wholly misleading cultural portrait is sciagraphed.
Ryan and I remain unmoved, standing at the edge of the water as five Speedo-clad lifeguards rush up to us.
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