I sit down and look at the unfinished boat in the bottle. Is it me, or has the bottle opening gotten yet again smaller. My tools can barely reach the boat anymore. A fantastic warship of old, three masted, crafted in burning colors.
I can remember a day not long ago when this would have taken months and yet the bottle hole gets narrower and the boats ever bigger and brighter. I can’t tell anymore how the boat was truly made, it is a wonderful marvel.
I can look at it through the glass but modifying it takes great effort and more care than ever before. I whisper a prompt through the opening to change the colour of the flag and the whole boat changes colour. A frustrating magic this is. That it can conjure a boat and yet offer so little control. It tried to benevolently guess my thoughts and I relinquish control. I huff, i won’t fight it on this one. As long as boat sails, the details are fine enough.