1. November Rain-Guns N' Roses
"Let us cultivate our garden."
-Voltaire
-Voltaire
UFOtext=
I. Saint-Emilion
"The First Citizen proposes that Guardians of Truth should moniter & control the Media of Paris. It is for their own good he says."
The Count stirred his coffee. Cream swirled in his porcelain cup like the arms from a spiral galaxy of stars.
"But he has no jurisdiction over Paris." countered Princess Lei. She looked soberly at the Count.
"Well...not yet. But notice how the Union of Worlds under command of the First Citizen grows & grows. He is a Napoleon of the stars. Of that there is no doubt."
The Count held the hand of the Princess. How long would Paris remain free? Or even her precious Silk Path for that matter? Foreboding questions in darkened clouds loomed over the Count. He knew first hand about the capricious iron fist of authority. He affectionately released the hand of the Princess. Autumn stirred within him like turning leaves of nature's pallette. He felt barefoot upon the stones. He could feel the doubt of the Princess. She looked at the world like an unfolding adventure that she would tame to fit her youthful ideals. She knew no defeat. But the Count knew the power of the objective universe. Defeat was always possible- from the tyranny of rulers or the madness of crowds. Hail Caesar- beware the Ides of March. And so it was. It never changed. Would it ever? The Count wondered. Like Rene Descartes, he knew one thing for sure- he existed. He felt that profoundly. He reached out & held the earnest hand of the Princess. Perhaps reasoning & experience allowed room for one more person in his universe. One small victory in the microcosm. One rose in the garden.
"The First Citizen proposes that Guardians of Truth should moniter & control the Media of Paris. It is for their own good he says."
The Count stirred his coffee. Cream swirled in his porcelain cup like the arms from a spiral galaxy of stars.
"But he has no jurisdiction over Paris." countered Princess Lei. She looked soberly at the Count.
"Well...not yet. But notice how the Union of Worlds under command of the First Citizen grows & grows. He is a Napoleon of the stars. Of that there is no doubt."
The Count held the hand of the Princess. How long would Paris remain free? Or even her precious Silk Path for that matter? Foreboding questions in darkened clouds loomed over the Count. He knew first hand about the capricious iron fist of authority. He affectionately released the hand of the Princess. Autumn stirred within him like turning leaves of nature's pallette. He felt barefoot upon the stones. He could feel the doubt of the Princess. She looked at the world like an unfolding adventure that she would tame to fit her youthful ideals. She knew no defeat. But the Count knew the power of the objective universe. Defeat was always possible- from the tyranny of rulers or the madness of crowds. Hail Caesar- beware the Ides of March. And so it was. It never changed. Would it ever? The Count wondered. Like Rene Descartes, he knew one thing for sure- he existed. He felt that profoundly. He reached out & held the earnest hand of the Princess. Perhaps reasoning & experience allowed room for one more person in his universe. One small victory in the microcosm. One rose in the garden.
