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A person needs their own castle like a tree needs its own patch of earth.
A home to die in is only truly known to be such when a body has lived long enough to settle, its mind experienced enough to realize a special dwelling’s value. Both having been put through the grinder of life many times over, the sum of all journeys coming to a peak of perfection so as to finally lay rest within this sanctuary for the soul.
Sebastian had indeed worked his whole life to reach such a place, the diversity of his labor being as mosaic as the kind of person he was. Starting off at the tender age of twelve by peddling words in the form of newspapers that at the end of each day would leave his hands blackened in ink he had went on to dozens of jobs. Everything from slinging hamburgers to sweeping floors, educating minds to entertaining them. It was this last line of work that hadn’t seemed like work at all, drawing from the eclectic life he had lived thus far to tell stories that would engage, excite, and enlighten. How fitting he thought, to be finishing as he had started, as a word peddler. Interestingly enough this had been the craft that was most rewarding, both financially and personally, his determined self in its weary body finally striking gold, using its radiance to spotlight the Shangri-La that is the entrance to the Colorado Rockies.
It was here were Sebastian set out to build the palace to his history, for what a man lives is who he becomes, and for what a man enjoys is what he will surround himself with. Not being an architect in the detailed sense, he worked closely with one who was so as to bring to life the majestic imagery from his mind’s eye, the result being a castle to nature, its wood structure solid with strength, intimate with beauty, tucked in by smaller versions of the colossal display of mountainous kingdoms off in the distance.
And then there were the trees, the spirit to his habitat, reaching so high towards the wide-open blue above as if they were skyscrapers, the only kind he would ever want to be near again. Actually he saw them more like giant paintbrushes, that which had come from them being the natural work of art he now called home.
And so this is where Sebastian would spend his remaining time in this world, far enough from the rat race to not be suffocated by it, yet still connected to it by way of digital breeze so as to continue to have his share of the cheese.
Oh how glorious life had become from outside the cage.