I'll finish it later.
2009-05-11 - 3:44 a.m.

One night, in the turning of the fourth of August to the fifth, a prince awoke in his bed. He had not had a nightmare, nor any sort of disturberating dream; he was just simply awake.
The moonlight shone in from the window on his left, and unlike every film that provides the viewer a shot of the glowing orb, this moon was a waxing gibbous, rather than full. The light that filled the room did not make it appear blue (though his may be because his room was in fact a delightful shade grapefruit), nor was it a luminescent silver, but grey, if indeed it is possible for light to be grey. But this is not the time to discuss light pigments.
The prince shifted in his sheets, and relished in softy downy good-feeling.
Happily ever after the end.

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