Elysian kumquats of dubious intent hover forlornly about the works of Narcissus-X. Sunlit skies and lusterless grass fail to excite aesthetic embarkations. Narcissus-X broods on blank expanse: vast desert devoid of detail, inspired or plebeian.
Narcissus-X has visions: visions of vast voids, vacuums vacantly abiding where inspirations once flew.
Is the muse on furlough? Absence may make the heart grow fonder: but drives the artist mad.
Can inspiration fly without wings of fancy?
Whither pistachio almond ice cream?