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A long time ago, there lived a man from the East who owned a ring of unimaginable value. The stone was an opal that refracted hundreds of beautiful colours and had a secret power to make the bearer adored by God and mankind. It is no wonder then that the man from the East never let the ring escape his finger and decided rather to keep it safely at home. And so it was, he said that he would leave his ring to his favourite of sons who he loved the most, irrespective of the order of his birth. The power of the ring would make this son the head of the home and ruler of the region.
They say that Lake Venus is the most beautiful in all the land. In summer, it provides the beaming sun with a surface to waltz upon. As the sun changes its axis and each sunbeam gently flows to the music of the breeze through the trees, the dormant fairies wake and begin to dance to the tune.
“Legato crescendos in D Major! Oh, what a sound—what a sight!” my father would tell me in my childhood. “Not even the winter’s chill could freeze it. Although the skies be grey and trees bare, the Lake itself would still glow a melancholy blue. A rich navy blue indeed!”
Impressionable I was as a boy, and I began to long for it. To see this Lake with my own eyes, quench my thirst and… dare I go on?… submerge myself in its waters. Would it be as father told me? Or did his command of the language lack the finesse to express what he saw? At the time, perhaps my own vocabulary was still too limited to appreciate the richness of his description… (click on title for more)
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