I could smell fame and greatness coming since I was the smallest child.I was never built for your tiny version of events.I smelled the potions in the dew, The spell-telling roses twining round the terebinth, teashur and tamarisk trees… All the verve the Vivacaine had lent—couldn’t half match me.And yet here I am, holding all your hours…And here I am, Ophelia fresh out of flowers… Be … Continue reading Marmaduchess by Dana Miller