It was his mother, a nurturing siren of Scandinavian blood, who instilled in him the virtues of charity, the axiom of patience, and the imperative of grace. Though the details of his own hereditary origins were complex and decidedly obscure, she loved and reared the aspiring creator, as though he were the scion of her own womb.
“Be selfless, Maxwell,” she would say.
And though the polished Ceylon ebony, which caressed the aromatic interior of the German sedan, bore the indulgence synonymous with his signature, his principles were not compromised.
The preponderance of his professional duties and personal obligations caused the breadth of his person to collapse into the adept comfort of the Swiss leather, selected with his meticulous care. He had been approached by the German car manufacturer, who would beseech the Platonist architect to employ his skill in the creation of an ultimate edition of their crown vehicle, which it would term The Mulberry Limited. The engagement of German engineering and Mulberry design would spawn the creation of three such rarified sedans, of mythical comfort.
Now, thoroughly immersed in the full-grain embrace of Braunvieh hide from the mountainous pastures of Neuheim, he allowed himself a moment of pause, whilst the muted images of midtown whisked past the sedated windows.
Implode. Part LXVI – DK