I lived in, then abandoned, his lodging-
-it was mine, after he'd gone off, dodging
out from Duiran, and I overwrote all semblance
of his memory: better, more happy, more elegant.

Now, though I have a house to call my own-
-a better house than any I have known!-
from time to time, I find I mourn the lodge,
but barely spare the man a passing thought.

This is the enlightenment of aging:
his empty space is worth far more than he'd be.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 21st of Celes, in the year 14 AC.