One thought on “All Flesh Is Brass”

  1. Strange how seemingly unrelated nodes in the unfathomable fabric of space and time do connect, after all. Let me elaborate: upon seeing us trying to dodge a chore we had been assigned, my grandma used to say, in her very own sardonic, surrealist and often cryptic way (usually preceding engagement in some sort of light, almost laughable -almost- physical punishment):

    “Let all the work for the Romans, for their chest is made of brass!”.

    (Peplums still were all the rage back then, of course. And she was glorious.)

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