Jack Vettriano Sometimes It's A Man's World

Jack Vettriano Sometimes It's A Man's WorldJack Vettriano Soho NightsJack Vettriano Silhouette
million shades between them; and black, in places, in lines and streaks of bright pitch; and silvery, too, where the sun caught the tops of a particular kind of grass just coming into flower; and blue, where a wide lake some way she'd done, and marveling at the extent of it. And at the light, and at the warmth, and at the quiet.
She climbed slowly back to join him and found him cutting the names of the Gallivespians on the little headstone, and setting it more firmly in the soil.
"Are they..." he said, and she knew he meant the daemons.
"Don't know. I haven't propelled himself with powerful backward strokes of his lateral limbs. Some of the creatures had gone to the pond to drink; the others waited, but not with the mild, passive curiosity of cows gathering at a gate. These were individuals, lively with intelligence and purpose. They were people.
Will and Lyra