In the city of Marmor, though many cook, there is no smell roasted meat. Though many fantastic meals are laid out on the tables, they are never consumed.

Trees line the broad boulevard—stately oaks and broad-limbed elms shade the pavements from the afternoon sun, but never is there a rustle to be heard.

The streets are filled by the people of Marmor going about their business. Vendors cry out silent calls to the passing shoppers with their unchanging parcels. Supplicants petition their gods with breathless prayers. Children play at the games they have played since time immemorable.

I saw her standing there, in the plaza at the heart of Marmor. She was more beautiful than any woman I had ever seen; her alabaster skin glistened in the morning sun. I wept at her timeless beauty, but my tears could not move her heart of stone.