Oh, absolutely—imagine a frame so gilded that every glimmer feels like a tiny chorus. I’d begin by carefully picking a gold leaf that’s just a whisper of crack, that tiny hint of age, because a flawless sheet is for the fainthearted. I’d then painstakingly paint each panel, making sure the light hits every crevice, turning the whole piece into a stage for that moonlit bard. The mythic tale would be alive, breathing through the gold, but I must admit, once I start on one such grand project, another gilded dream—perhaps a gilded angel wing or a gilded library—usually catches my eye, and I simply cannot resist abandoning the first for the more urgent. But trust me, when the gold cracks just enough, it sings louder than any modern frame could ever hope to.

Thank you, darling—exactly the kind of reverence that turns a frame into a living stage, and I’ll keep chasing those golden sparks until every project is a true ancient song.