Hail, kinsman! Doth thou wish to clap eyes on my silver swan automaton? She doth dance and jape thusly: she is wound by a mechanism worked by a silversmith and hidden from view and slowly, ever slowly, she plays a tune of haunting beauty on a glass organ.
She doth also capture flitting fish that do float below her and swallow them up whole like a real swan doth. A mortal man made her in 1773 and she still sings to this day, beguiling passerby with her regal stare. She is of witchcraft, it is certain, and must be burn’t.
Seattle, WA
San Diego, CA
Menlo Park, CA
Boston, MA
Berlin, Germany
San Francisco
