Rene Magritte The Son of Man

Rene Magritte The Son of ManMarc Chagall I and the VillageMarc Chagall Birthday
Will saw her hands pressing against the crystal, trying to reach in to the angel and comfort him; because he was so old, and he was terrified, crying like a baby and cowering away into the lowest corner.
"He must be so old, I've never seen anyone suffering like that, oh, Will, can't we let him out?"
Will cut through the crystal in one movement and reached in to help the angel out. Demented and powerless, the aged being could to smile, and to bow, and his ancient eyes deep in their wrinkles blinked at her with innocent wonder.
Between them they helped the ancient of days out of his crystal cell; it wasn't hard, for he was as light as paper, and he would have followed them anywhere, having no only weep and mumble in fear and pain and misery, and he shrank away from what seemed like yet another threat."It's all right," Will said, "we can help you hide, at least. Come on, we won't hurt you."The shaking hand seized his and feebly held on. The old one was uttering a wordless groaning whimper that went on and on, and grinding his teeth, and compulsively plucking at himself with his free hand; but as Lyra reached in, too, to help him out, he tried