A Happy Tune

In a land far away from any continent, there is a factory. Smoke does not billow from any stacks, and the workers are not unhappy in their posts. Music plays constantly, and dancing is a natural mode of travel about the building.

Dangling from the ceiling beams are lines and cables hung over pulleys for raising and lowering heavy wooden pieces or running parts from one end of the building to the other.

Amidst the brown work coats and pale tufts of thin hair above pointed ears on each worker, ebony paint and white enamel frolic merrily.

Truly, the happiest musical instruments are crafted here, for the atmosphere is light. Beautiful, true sounds bounce around the harmonic architecture of the orchestral pit where the finished pieces are tested and hewn together with final fittings.

One piano a night, made of the finest wood, the most delicate strings, and the shiniest, whitest, human teeth. The tooth fairy smiled at the newest jewel, and danced a happy dance to it’s tune. More teeth are needed tomorrow.

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