66. frosty breath

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My realm is not the warmest of locales and yet, due to the weather, beauty abounds.  In the smallest details, London can be painted white - stripped of the grime and soot.

In the courtyard I watched as Jonathan stepped forward to begin his warm up, unaware I was watching. 

Pulling a practice sword, he stepped through the formal paces of a fencer, moving gracefully as if on a dance floor.  While my exertions for similar steps would have me desperate to catch my breath, his own exhale of air were simple puffs of white, carried away on the breeze.


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