Twenty-fourth of August, 1257 My name is Phillip Cameron. I am the son of a merchant sailor of León, having taken after him these past three years, since I was seventeen. I was given this journal by my Uncle Nihra who died two nights ago. He left it in my possession after owning it for …
Is nobility a bird that flies Free from fierce societal ties? Or is it a flower that never moves, That many smell, and never dies? To say a deed is nobly done, Was it from a mighty one? Was it performed by a great king, A man at arms, or a ruler’s son? Is nobility …
“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude After taking a course on World …
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