Restless

In his own uniquely verbose, but ultimately obscure manner, Habib confirmed what I already suspected. The shortage was not orchestrated in collusion with the suppliers in the Tahari. It would have been a stretch, in my opinion, to have implicated the fiercely independent Salt Ubarate of the Tahari. The tales of the revolt in the mines, the ascension of desperate men, throwing off the chains of oppression to seize the throne of one of the world's most important commodities is legendary. Call me an idealist. I am not jaded enough - yet - to think such men would be party to this level of conspiracy. I may be wrong, but I would rather risk feeling dejected in the future than carry the weight of cynicism. I was, too, given names that seem to implicate a small band of cohorts. One more piece of circumstantial evidence that does little but whet the appetite of curiosity and stir the glowing embers of a building anger. Soon, I am told, there will be proof.

It is difficult to remain patient, to contend with this necessary, but tedious immurement. The Anbar residence is a quiet, calm sanctuary in the middle of a vibrant & lewd district. I have ventured as far as the end of the cul-de-sac, and even accepted a few visitors, but it is not enough. I will take a walk this evening, venture off this once infamous porch where the doors are no longer red. I need the care of a Physician to be certain I am healing correctly. I do not understand such things as the mending of tissue and the setting of bones. Such things are best left to those qualified. If pressed, I will admit in these pages if nowhere else that I do not much like the notion that I have been 'silenced.' The last time I was in the Great Square, I was rent through and bleeding like a stuck tarsk, unable to utter a word. I am stubborn. I know this. I do not wish to give whomever was responsible the pleasure of having delivered my full comeuppance.