Chorus: There are days that feel like every other, as hours repeat and seconds are mute. These are days that bring Sisyphus to tears. Today was born with such a burden, but it is dying with a seed of difference. An old man, sitting on a bench under the empty gaze of a statue of some military hero long dead, watches as a stranger approaches. Hiding from the New Moon in the pale glow of streetlamps, Socrates X notices that Dister Felig notices his arrival, and offers a greeting.
Socrates X: Good evening! It is a beautiful night for walk, or a pleasant visit to the park. How are you this evening?
Dister Felig: Good, great, sure. All’s well, I suppose. What are you up to? Passing through?
Socrates X: Yes, but I might stay a few days. I like to learn from every place I visit. You never know, I might get smitten enough to settle down here, build a house.
Dister Felig: Right, right. I built some, you know. It’s been a while, but I did. It’s important to have a good foundation, solid, no mud or sand, stable and strong. It’s important.
Socrates X: Truer words are rarely spoken, and I would love to explore that subject, but I am so weary from my travel. Is there some place to stay in town? Somewhere affordable?
Dister Felig: Yeah, yeah. There’s a nice one, safe, clean, down that road a ways. It’s called the Waystation Inn.
Socrates X: Sounds perfect. Thank you, sir. Well I had better move on, so I bid to you a good night.
Dister Felig: Very good. And you, too.
Chorus: Socrates X continues on his way as a distant bell bids farewell to one day with a greeting for a new one.
Next: Book 1: On Philosophy: Preamble