Thomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect Day

Thomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect DayThomas Kinkade Sunset at Riverbend FarmThomas Kinkade Seaside Hideaway
Hardly anyone really believes in thunder gods any more . . .
Ow.
"Listen, friend. I've got no time for talking to some pantywaister in a sheet. Where's the gods of Ephebe and Tsort?"
lo, clutching at his nose, waved vaguely towards the center of the hall.
"You nidn't naf to ndo dat!" he said reproachfully.
Om strode across the hall.
In the center dome on top of the tiny Cori Celesti, he would undoubtedly see himself, looking down on an even smaller model . . . and so on, down to the point where the universe coiled up like the tail of an ammonite, a kind of creature that lived millions of years ago and never believed in any gods at all . . .
The gods clustered around it, watching intently.
Om elbowed aside a minor Goddess of Plenty.
There were dice floating just above the world, and a mess of little clay figures and gaming counters. You didn't need to be even slightly omnipotent to know what was going on.
"He hid by nose!"of the room was what at first looked like a round table, and then looked like a model of the Discworld, Turtle, elephants and all, and then in some undefinable way looked like the real Discworld, seen from far off yet brought up close to. There was something subtly wrong about the distances, a feeling of vast space curled up small. But possibly the real Discworld wasn't covered with a network of glowing lines, hovering just above the surface. Or perhaps miles above the surface?Om hadn't seen this before, but he knew what it was. Both a wave and a particle; both a map and the place mapped. If he focused on the tiny glittering
Om turned around.