You are 'French'. In the nineteenth century, it
was the international language of diplomacy.
It is a 'beautiful' language, meaning that it
is really just a low-fidelity copy of Latin.
You know the importance of communicating
'diplomatically', which for you means both
being polite and friendly when necessary and
using sophisticated, vicious sarcasm when
appropriate. Your life is guided by either
existentialism or nihilism, depending on the
weather. You have a certain appreciation for
the finer things in life, which is a diplomatic
way of saying that you are a disgusting
hedonist. Your problem is that French has been
obsolete for a long time.
What obsolete skill are you?
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Some take refuge in despair, which is sweet
Like strong tobacco, like a glass of vodka drunk in the hour of annihilation.
Others have the hope of fools, rosy as erotic dreams.
Still others find peace in the idolatry of country,
Which can last for a long time,
Although little longer than the nineteenth century lasts.
But to me a cynical hope is given,
For since I opened my eyes I have seen only the glow of fires, massacres,
Only injustic, humiliation, and the laughable shame of braggarts.
To me is given the hope of revence on others and on myself,
For I was he who knew
And took from it no profit for myself.
--the poor poet, czeslaw milosz
+ fictions&fires 11:59 PM
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