A festival for lovers
The day had begun normally enough--I rose, bathed, dressed, and broke my fast, all unawares that it was any special day. I knew I should keep better track of such things, as most festivals the island took part in originated long after my time, but sometimes they slipped my mind. This one, had circumstances been otherwise, I would have enjoyed--a day to celebrate love, and lovers? There had been such a festival in Persia, called Esfandgen, but it was a day for men to follow women, and those such as I were not included in it.
It had been celebrated in winter as well, and perhaps the proximity is what kept me from thinking of it--I had no lover in any case, so to celebrate such a thing was pointless. I would say a prayer for my lost king, but I did that so many other times.
But as I walked along the sand, a surly little man started to follow me, grumbling to himself. When I turned to greet him at last, he thrust something into my hand, scowled, and scurried off before I could thank him, or more appropriately, ask what it was and on whose behalf he delivered it.
I opened it, there in the sun, and read it with some surprise. Compliments I had once received in plenty, but the island was a different world altogether. I found that I enjoyed it every bit as much as I had when younger, and I tucked it into my kooshak before walking on, my step some little bit lighter in spite of myself.
[Whoever sent him a valentine, I'm afraid you made the dear little hedonist's day. Anyone welcome to say hello. :) He's a bit curious about the sender, but he won't mind either if he never finds out.]
It had been celebrated in winter as well, and perhaps the proximity is what kept me from thinking of it--I had no lover in any case, so to celebrate such a thing was pointless. I would say a prayer for my lost king, but I did that so many other times.
But as I walked along the sand, a surly little man started to follow me, grumbling to himself. When I turned to greet him at last, he thrust something into my hand, scowled, and scurried off before I could thank him, or more appropriately, ask what it was and on whose behalf he delivered it.
I opened it, there in the sun, and read it with some surprise. Compliments I had once received in plenty, but the island was a different world altogether. I found that I enjoyed it every bit as much as I had when younger, and I tucked it into my kooshak before walking on, my step some little bit lighter in spite of myself.
[Whoever sent him a valentine, I'm afraid you made the dear little hedonist's day. Anyone welcome to say hello. :) He's a bit curious about the sender, but he won't mind either if he never finds out.]