MELCHIOR
Being shamed by nothing is really not so
bad - even that naked silhouette in the
window across the way has its place. Outside,
those old churchbells are ringing again.
St. Sebastian of the night owls, or something.
-
Was it Shakespeare who put it : 'the slings and
arrows of outrageous fortune'? If it wasn't, then
I'll claim it for my own and screw the rest. I've
gone this distance, I've passed the test. Now is
but the time for milking tears and wiping venom.
-
Looking past my happenstance, I know I've
reached the loamy soil in a most fortuitous was.
Yet, having the manner doesn't give one the means.
Alas, Melchior, alas.
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