Word: vagabonding
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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This morning the Vagabond embarks on his first journey of the season. For fear there are those young ones as yet unfamiliar with his ways, a happy word of counsel may not be out of place. Sagmus, his old friend and philosopher, is wont to take the Vagabond under his warm wing. Not to reform, mind you, for the philosopher is a bit of a vagrant himself, but to befriend with wisdom. And the Vagabond seeks that precious jewel with all his heart. The talk was of travel; yet not travel of the common sort but of the imagination...
...imagination is dear to the Vagabond and necessary for those who would come with him for as he is a poet of the open road so is he a votary of the real. For the real is imaginary; the imaginary is perfect. That was a thought which came to the Vagabond as a young lad; and one which he would hold as he cherishes his youth. Though the heart, the Vagabond has been told, doesn't wrinkle, still well he knows it becomes poor. For in youth all things are of the same importance; nothing escapes our attention; and dreams...
That is what Sagmus said; and that is the Vagabond's way. He is too poor to go otherwise; and too rich to want to do so. Imagination is the free way. Unbounded by space its roads are endless; timeless, its speed is as the flash of ideas. And so perhaps to Rome one hour; to Greece another. A trip to the stars before noon; to the soil of the earth as quickly. Nor will the Vagabond confine himself simply to places; but more important, to ideas. Therein lies the adventure of adventure. So come prepared, ye young ones. Soon...
...bless her soul, she felt sory for the Vagabond: the Vagabond living alone in his Tower. Did he have a good bed? A lamp to read by? Was he warm at nights? "Stone walls! You'll catch your death of cold!" She would have him comfortable; yes, and rich. Rugs for his chamber; wood for his fire; drapes for his windows; even a new cloak to wear. But the Vagabond is not sure. Leave his Tower? New Furniture? Strange clothes...
...like him. These walls have sheltered him through many a cold night; for a mere nothing too. They understand each other. Cold at times, yes; but then again the sun rises to the old Tower first before lighting the world below. And that old chair is the Vagabond's true friend and was his father's father's friend. Live in a House and have the maid change and clean and handle the furniture at will? Friends need a friend's care. The Vagabond stays! And this coat: give up a garment which has served so well and so long...