40 Pavane for a dead Princess

The Lake looks young this morning. The small crests on the waves match sweetly with the ever
industrious seagulls. I remember the riddle I once sent to the Acrobat.

Do fish drink water?

Is there an answer?

From my PC the deliciuous sound of Ravels pianomusic. When the Princess dies its crying time. When there are no tears anymore only the story remains. A melancholic song always mixed with a streak of hope.