| M. C. A. Hogarth ( @ 2007-05-21 13:04:00 |
| Current music: | De/Vision - All I Ever Do |
| Entry tags: | ai-naidar, meta-conversations, philosophy |
Beauty is Not a Function of Youth
The Calligrapher looks aghast when I ask my question, which I hastily withdraw. Shame doesn't even bother; he gives me that look and I am the one beating a retreat.
I am not surprised then that the only one willing to even entertain my question is the emperor.
"I've been asked--thrice--what happens to old decorations," I say to him.
He is arranging flowers again. "You have told them how fathriked are kept for life."
I nod. "In Nojzel."
"And you have explained the nuances of diqed," he says.
"Yes," I say.
"Then why do they ask?" he asks, adding another sprig of flowers.
"I think... well, we all do... that old people are not sufficiently beautiful to be kept as decorations, and so it is assumed that old fathriked are discarded."
"So is beauty then a thing of the body?" he asks.
"No," I say firmly.
"You know this," he says.
I nod. "Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes... I forget."
"Go and tell your fellow aunera that there are no "discarded" people," Thirukedi says. "Explain to them the contemplation of the wholeness of a thing's arc: the beauty of it from seed to withering, and what we learn from the gift of observing that process. Our fathriked do not cease to serve us because they become frail. They only bring us to a different understanding."
I watch him for a moment. "Are you... angry?"
He sighs and shakes his head. "No. No, but this thing you mention... it is heinous, to confuse the beautiful with the superficial."
"I know," I say, for it has been much on my mind of late, and take my leave of him. To think, to feel sorrow and to write.
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