And indeed there were not ....
The above instillation may well have constituted the only light relief (literally a relief made of lights) that the Emperor experienced in a recent and lengthy day-trip to the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art.
"Not a big fan of modern art?", I hear the gallery whisper ... "Eh ... Nope" whips back my urbanely sophisticated response.
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"Do you call the man leisured who arranges with anxious precision his Corinthian bronzes, the cost of which is inflated by the mania of a few collectors, and spends most of the day on rusty bits of metal?"
Seneca, Dialogues, On the Shortness of Life, 12
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Greetings from the Emperor.
Thank you for getting in touch.
Colinus