“It’s odd, isn’t it,” Lightsong said, gesturing toward a pile of paintings. “Arranged like this, none of it looks beautiful anymore. When you put it together in piles, it just seems like junk.”
Llarimar raised an eyebrow.
“The value in something relates to how it is treated, your grace. If you see these items as junk, then they are, regardless of what someone else would pay for them.”
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