Can you feel the breeze, sweeping in through the window?
I am the heir to the throne. All that you see from this window, all the land beyond, will one day be under my purview. Every mile you see, every yard, every foot, every inch, mine.
Every breeze rustling the grass will be mine. Every single column of air that decides to cross the river to the North, the boundary of the kingdom to the North, will enter and exit at my pleasure.
When a breeze enters my kingdom, it will visit me in my courtyard, and I, the soul of magnanimity, will greet the breeze warmly. And ask after its family. And ask after its people. And ask after its plans for the future.
Even the breezes will be mine to command.
When will I ever, for the life of me, have time to blog?
1 comment:
i can't think of anything to comment anymore
the man who couldn't comment?
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