Growth

originally posted September 2, 2006

My fingernails are stained with the dirt of the land. On the eastern slope, beneath the field of dina I purchashed with the profits gained from the labors of whores, I have tilled. There is much work, still, to do, but I will complete it during my days here in Venna. On the shallow, rolling hills north of the city, perhaps years from now, my villa would one day be erected. There is no hurry for such a thing. My life has been rich with more intangible things than monetary wealth and continues to be so to this day. My father crafted strong sayings when the empire was a republic and, before that, when the republic was beginning to grow from its origins as one simple city amongst the others at the base of the Voltai, amidst the villages and towns of the Fulvian countryside. Ar was always destined for more. Through charismatic leadership, progressive thinking and the determination of her leaders to bring the world peace through a centralized rule, Ar grew. Some challenged her might, others welcomed her protection from the pecking jards and murderous sleen of the world. Only one thing could undo what the might of great men created, the treachery of lesser men. One hopes that the lessons of the past benefit the generations of the future, but I have digressed. My fingernails are stained with the dirt of the land. Because I am not, in truth, a wealthy man, monetarily speaking, I labored at this cause on my own. With the tools of the humble peasant and with the fingers of my own hands, I tilled the soil. I have started to turn the dirt from beneath the grass that it might breathe the air, that it might warm in the temperate sun. And when it rains, that it might drink. A few saplings are planted. In the days to come, a few more will be planted. In time, fruit will sprout. Fruit will be harvested. There is a poetry to the process; a measured cadence to the stanza that I look forward to hearing sung. Perhaps I am a romantic after all, despite my protestations.

Perhaps I am simply a drunkard, a fulfiller of the senses seeking satiation from the soil itself. Perhaps I will plant olives on the western slope and other things such as nuts or beans. Fruit, perhaps. I shall have to think upon it. While we are in Venna, as well, I am considering the first public production of 'The Bridge of Twenty Lanterns'. The Vennans were witness to the famed Locutius of Gor, patronizing three runs of 'The Fall of Agamedes'. I admit that I am curious how they will receive a simple, but original, street play that retells the tale of the outrage of free women and their ultimate comeuppance. Some find this sort of comedy rude and unfitting for mixed company. I cannot deny them their reservations, but I cannot deny the popularity of this medium as it has lasted for generations either.