Sentiment

The sun is rising in Ar just now, as it is rising here. The bars are ringing, and they will continue to ring for the better part of an ahn. People are crowding out onto the bridges and into the streets. People are wearing their finest clothing, and they will sing and dance, drink and feast the entire day.

I've painted my door green.

When she rises, I will set Mina to the task of burning the brak branches in a small tin. I let her sleep, finding myself unable to do so. She is a beautiful girl. A distraction at times, but a comfort at others.

Saw the world, turning in my sheets

And once again I cannot sleep

Walk out the door and up the street

Look at the stars beneath my feet

An auburn-haired girl used to paint the door of Samsara on the first of En'Kara each year. It had served as home and hostel for wandering souls, itinerant artisans, family, and friends for many years. A mere slave, a barbarian, she was the heart and soul of that home on Aulus Street. I won't hesitate to say that I miss her, and that I always will. As I rose to prominence in the theater, in business, and in politics, she waited patiently. Most nights, I did not make it back to Aulus Street. Some would say such sentiment for a girl is the mark of a fool. I have never denied it. I am a fool. Some days, like today, the first day of En'Kara, I allow myself to be a sentimental fool. She has been gone over a year, and I miss her.

Remember rights that I did wrong

So here I go.

Hello. Hello

There is no place I cannot go

My mind is muddy, but my heart is heavy

Does it show?

I lose the track that loses me

So here I go.

I do not know how long I will stay here, in the hills northeast of beautiful Venna. Vesutto has seen to the upkeep and maintenance of the home and modest vineyard over the last few years. I look forward to resuming our friendship, and sorting out business matters between us. For the duration of my stay, I think I will find pleasure in the brining of olives and the pressing of grapes. So starts another chapter in a life I am only beginning to learn to live.

And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak

Don't buy the promises, 'cause there are no promises that I keep

And my reflection troubles me

So here I go.*

*Excerpts from 'Same Mistake,' by James Blunt