Fabian Perez Flamenco Dancer

Fabian Perez Flamenco DancerJohannes Vermeer Girl with a Red HatDiane Romanello WindsongDiego Rivera The Flower SellerGustav Klimt The Music
still breathing,’ said Victor. Laddie leapt around them, barking furiously.
‘Maybe you should loosen her clothing or something,’ said Gaspode. ‘It’s just a thought,’ he added. ‘You teeth.
Between two of them was an arched doorway, three times as high as Victor. It was sealed with a pair of pale grey doors, either of stone or of wood that had become as hard as stone over the years. One of them was slightly open, but had been prevented from opening further by the drifts of sand in front of it. Frantically scrabbled furrows had been dug deep into the sand. Ginger had been trying to shift it with her bare hands.
‘Stupid thing to do in this heat,’ said Victor, vaguely. He looked from the door to the sea, and don’t have to glare at me like that. I’m a dog, what do I know?’ ‘She seems all right, but . . . look at her hands,’ said Victor. ‘What the hell has she been trying to do?’ ‘Tryin’ to open that door,’ said Gaspode. ‘What door?’ ‘That door there.’ Part of the hill had slipped away. Huge blocks of masonry protruded from the sand. There were the stubs of ancient pillars, sticking up like fluoridated