The smartest frog in the world sat for his portrait. Red velvet upholstery nicely set off his green skin tone, while a potted fern and a blue-gray cloudy backdrop provided tonal balance to the composition.
Rare tomes of law, philosophy, and medicine stood as reminders of his accomplishments, all the more rare as they were bound in the hides of his rivals, as was a slim volume of cat cartoons.
He was taking a risk from this session, as most people seeing the photograph would not recognize him as the author of all of the diverse books, or the artist behind the subtle subliminal imagery in the backdrop. If he were recognized for all of that, it would reveal his true age and nature. That might start the Salem Witch Trials all over again, and he’d seen how that worked out the first time.
Sitting on the anvil is a thing of beauty. A silver sliver with a wooden handle, died forest green. The blade is nearly impossible to break, while remaining thin and supple without being any sharper than needed to slice and spread butter and cheese.
Nothing remains to show the effort that went in to its creation. Scraps and dust have been swept away. All tool marks have been polished off. The blade stands alone as its own achievement.
The anvil is surrounded by a light curtain alarm. The knife will remain where it is until the rightful owner appears with the correct toast. Only the correct toast will unlock the alarm and allow the blade to be used. For toast is bread reborn.
At first glance, the figure was hovering in midair, more than far enough above the chasm to break every bone in his body.
The wire he was standing on could be seen in enough sections along its length to make it clear that overt magic was not involve. All in all, this was not a nearly naked man flying. It was merely a man standing on a narrow bridge.
That the bridge was perhaps only an inch wide was just a reductio ad absurdum of a more typical bridge. After all, when walking down a sidewalk, how much ground are you actually standing on? Certainly not the entire walkway width. At most, a patch the size of each foot. The rest of the sidewalk is only there to reassure you, you aren’t actually using it.
How much stage is a ballerina actually standing on when en pointe?
The toe of her shoe is not large at all, perhaps one by two inches. She doesn’t need more stage than that to stand on.
So on that scale, the inch or so diameter of the wire is plenty.
It doesn’t look that way when a chasm looms below. A chasm that hasn’t really even been fully explored, and might be effectively bottomless.
The trick, then, is to remember walking on a stage, on a sidewalk, or on a bridge. And remember that you aren’t using the rest of the space, just the bits under your feet.