Edward Hopper Railroad Crossing

Edward Hopper Railroad CrossingEdward Hopper Portrait of OrleansEdward Hopper Pont du Carrousel in the Fog
looks like someone has taken twice five miles of inner city and girdled them round with walls and towers,' he hazarded.
'What a strange idea,' said Conina.
'Well, some of the religions here-well, when you die, you see, they think you go to this sort of garden, where there's all scowled.
'Anyway, I don't like sherbet.'
Rincewind didn't comment. He was busily examining the state of his own mind, and wasn't happy at the sight of it. He had a horrible feeling that he was falling in love.
He was sure he had all the symptoms. There were the sweaty palms, the hot sensation in the stomach, the general feeling that the skin of his chest was made of tight elastic. There this sort of music and, and,' he continued, wretchedly, 'sherbet and, and - young women.'Conina took in the green splendour of the walled gar­den, with its peacocks, intricate arches and slightly wheezy fountains. A dozen reclining women stared back at her, impassively. A hidden string orchestra was playing the complicated Klatchian bhong music.'I'm not dead,' she said. 'I'm sure I would have remembered. Besides, this isn't my idea of paradise.' She looked critically at the reclining figures, and added, 'I wonder who does their hair?'A sword point prodded her in the small of the back, and the two of them set out along the ornate path towards a small domed pavilion surrounded by olive trees. She