The Elder Spirit Rises
Another year has passed and I find myself on stranger tides as an old sun sets in Liberty. Oh Remy, matia mou, I had expected only to spend the day alone in the shop but your arrival off-shift was such a blessing my soul lit aflame and no refusal of a fair damsel's request to my abode could have doused it such a pity though- she had an angel's face and a temptress's thighs. The pot for Orpheus, quaint, unique, a picture of the giver and no more perfect a gift to be given. You remind me of all that is pure in a world of decay and despotism. We do not celebrate 'birthdays' as Americans do in the isles but who am I to ignore the genuine overtures of one's heart?
O' this city and its people. O' this life of riches, of rags, of all and nothing, old and new.
I am grateful for you. As I am grateful for this boat years of saving and good sales have finally enabled me to acquire. I must Christen it. Give it a name worth the sea it shall sail upon.
Tell me, bold citizens, what strikes thee as a noble title?
O' this city and its people. O' this life of riches, of rags, of all and nothing, old and new.
I am grateful for you. As I am grateful for this boat years of saving and good sales have finally enabled me to acquire. I must Christen it. Give it a name worth the sea it shall sail upon.
Tell me, bold citizens, what strikes thee as a noble title?