Saturday, July 27, 2013

I have made a decision. A radical decision. Iberia is calling my name and the dark haired Prussian Knight and I are going to spend a fortnight cavorting on the golden sands, not caring about the little details that are too inclined to cling to the hem of my undergarments and weigh me down.

Iberia of course is nothing new, nothing radical (not like before) and I plan on enjoying every second that I get to spend with the dark haired Prussian Knight. Afterwards however, I now have a plan of action.

A grande tour is too extravagant, too conspicuous and I feel I would lose touch with the world that I so much crave. Instead I have managed to convince my parents that I am to travel across the Continent to the Eastern borders and make a home for myself and my retinue and learn another country's culture.


I shall of course be in disguise, for a female cannot travel on her own without a reason, these are such the trappings of the life I lead, but I want to get to know another country. I remember the love I felt for the Antipodes, it shall always be my second home. But is it so wrong to want a third, a fourth?

I want to understand why there are differences in religions and races, what values different people fight for. I want to know that there is more in this world than the debauchery I have lavished upon myself for so long.

Answers shall not come swiftly for me, and I do not expect this to be easy. The gruelling task of crossing the Continent shall be mine to bear, but I look forward to the challenge once the Convent has released me from its iron grip.

It was hard for me to let the Prussian Knight know of my decision to leave the Shire; we had become terribly fond of each other's company, but I know in my heart that travelling and learning and seeing the world mean more to me than any sort of relationship we could etch out.

I watch the rain fall for the first time in a month. The yellow grass desperate for the attention of the significant droplets, the trees yearning for more than a mere smattering. A thunderstorm is brewing, there is tension in the air and an electricity that cannot be ignored.

Something is about to change.



D. S.