Jean Francois Millet The Gleaners

Jean Francois Millet The GleanersJean Fragonard The Swing 1767Salvador Dali meditative rose
Look," said the ghost of John Parry. "But hold still to the rock, and don't move."
The dust was clearing, and from somewhere there was light: a strange faint golden glimmer, like a luminous misty rain falling all around them. It was enough to strike their hearts ablaze with fear, for it lit up what lay to their left, the place into which which, it seemed, the slightest touch would send hurtling down below.
And behind them, as the dust cleared, more and more of the ghosts were gazing it was all falling, or flowing, like a river over the edge of a waterfall.It was a vast black emptiness, like a shaft into the deepest darkness. The golden light flowed into it and died. They could see the other side, but it was much farther away than Will could have thrown a stone. To their right, a slope of rough stones, loose and precariously balanced, rose high into the dusty gloom.The children and their companions were clinging to what was not even a ledge, just some lucky hand- and footholds, on the edge of that abyss, and there was no way out except forward, along the slope, among the shattered rocks and the teetering boulders,