Explore "History" by Maxwell Bodenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sunlight stuck to the gray floor like curdled honey and clung to the black wall like visible fever on the breast of a savage. This contradiction gave a fugitive radiance to the room in which King Ferdinand stood, moulding figures of happiness. On sunless days the room was a depressed insult to his rejoicing, forcing it into adroit retorts. He had made this chamber a necessary enemy.
As he moulded his figures of happiness, his wife stood beside him, ready with colors.