"This is the butterfly room," said the gray-haired majordomo. The walls were covered with small glass-fronted cases. Kitty examined them with polite interest.
"But these are all the same!" she cried.
I leaned over her shoulder. Every pattern was identical, like some trick in a hall of mirrors.
"The Master is very intrigued by iterations these days," said our guide. "Please, wait here. I will see if he is ready."
I sat. Kitty continued examining the cases, as if hoping to find one butterfly different from the rest. She didn't see the previous guests leaving.
Like some trick with mirrors...
Vossler on Soaping and Writing
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