My wisdom tooth is gone away.
My dentist is so nice, but he couldn't give me the tooth, though it had an evilly hooked root.
The absence of pain is joyful. Modern pharmaceuticals create an artificial, yet warm fuzzy blanket round my brain.
I must sleep. But the nagging question of the day is what to call lots of poppets.
If it's a gaggle of geese, a pride of lions, a murder of crows, a plague? of zombies, what then, goes for poppets?
A bit of work in progress from Saturday. More pics as I progress.
So:
I stopped in my tracks. Before me, made surreal in the strange light of dusk, was nothing less than a______________ of poppets. I dared not move. Could not. The sight held me in mute, joyful wonder.
g'night
