I’m a craftsman. My work is that which is approved by the gods. Simple enough, nail to board. I take much pride in my good work. I’m provided with board, nail and cloth. What more could a great craftsman ask. I’m not bothered in my days work with petty conversation. Those around me only speak to me when they are in need of my superb skills. These things are not planned, they happen. My work has ebbs and tides. Certain times of the year bring those seeking my skills often. During the slow times I rest and thank the gods for my wonderful craft. I’m much needed here, I’m a respected a part of this village. I eat well, sleep better; for I have no spirits that haunt my nights, my thoughts. I do my work, I’m happy. I sometimes think thoughts of a wife, but women folk steer clear of my traffic. Any conversation short, meaningless, full of attempts to quickly end. Their discomfort of my closeness distresses me not. I will at some point be in their very close company and we will work my skills together, we may even become lovers, if for only a short time. It’s all just a matter of time. I have time and I’m very patient. My work goes on.
The bell above my door rings, who is in need of my services this day. The life of a casket maker has been very good to me.
From the Ramblings