It was lodged somewhere in his memory, the phrase, "antiquitas saeculi juventus mundi." (ancient times were the youth of the world.) If so, then presumably, that early stage signified the embryo and initial nursing of mankind's hope. Alternatively, there had also been a display of callow inexperience for the years ahead?
He sat there in the formal reception room of a family house in the Mekong Delta. Heavy dark stained furniture took up most of the space, and a portrait of the Budda looked down from a ceiling level family shrine dedicated to the inhabitant's ancestors. The smell of burnt joss sticks still prevailed.
Outside in the humid heat, little stirred. Even the two black dogs were stretched out in the shade of the porch overhang.
There seemed to him to be a strange disease regards modern life. Yet in a rural conservative country like Vietnam, it was always prudent that thoughts be secreted behind an open countenance.
One could retain honest prejudices; yet for appearances, they must, like Caesar's wife, be above suspicion.
This general feeling had developed gradually, yet with no check: a personal distaste for aspects of modern living. In the UK, (as in so much of the international sphere), he had observed mob orators homing in on nostalgia and anger, and most of it seemed to be carried along on a social media that was anything but social.
Life in the outback of Vietnam was much simpler. In fact, it seemed to revolve around; a pair of shorts, flip flops and getting in an early morning walk before the heat and humidity increased. The rest of the day consisted of meals with up to twelve of the family around the table. Chopsticks were de riguer to pick up or scoop home reared staples of, chicken, duck, fish, pork and of course, rice.
Siestas took up a lot of time too.
Perhaps we all need this simplified time off at some juncture.
For all of his existence, (at least that part where he had been engaged in writing), he had been a watcher. It was alien to his way of thinking, that in the theatre of man's life, it was reserved only for God and the angel's to be lookers on.
No need to set standards. We are, after all not as Caesar, who was obliged to divorce Pompeia to protect his, dignity, status, reputation and prestige. For, even Publius Clodius Pulcher sneaking into a woman only rites for a Roman deity, to celebrate fruitfulness, with the rumoured intention of seducing Caesar's wife, was but a dance of bit players in an interesting, yet inconsequential setting.
The essence lay in the dance and in the observing.