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The silence of the Hut could be a beautiful thing. “I am here for the silence, for the largess of time that seems packed in coils through the wonderful trees. I’m here so that nothing is wasted.” And it was a nemesis. “It is a vast waste of time because you have no objects to show for it.”
“Oh idiots, don’t you see I’m where I’m supposed to be, at least for this period of time?”
He was a curiosity and accepted it and laughed and enjoyed roaring fires when the people came to drink the wine and converse in the mundane, yet satisfying ways that they did.
They had wonderful travel tales. They had been in every continent. They had been in harbors, deep inland, in the mountains, the odd cities. He always waited for the moment when he heard something he hadn’t heard before. It was rare but certainly a resource the moment he heard it.
He had had strong fantasies of roaming the Earth as a young man. “Let me stow away on a merchant ship to Mermansk. Let me float down the Niger and run with some killer pygmies. Let me hunt sharks in the stupendous Australian sun!” He so wanted to. It was only natural. One fantasy moved as a chain, down to the bottom of dark where they disappeared. “I will be President. I will write a novel and win the Nobel prize. I will be famed for discoveries. I will float down the Niger and run with a killer pygmy tribe.”
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