The Sound of Settling

He struck me as one of upmost vanity; a manner of courtesy and warmth of hospitality so uncommon, yes, but an epicurean taste for life. Beyond the luxuries dawned upon his aristocratic body, there was a hidden aura of a different kind of pride; a quiet one. It was fierce, it was cunning, it was intelligent, it was manipulative, it was brilliant. And all those qualities would always be him.

He floated to my side, and spoke in the firmest of whispers, "what would you like to find out?"

The full force of a hurricane blasted all thoughts out of my mind and it was left in a devastation of nothingness. The intensity was so fierce, I thought I was in 1789 again. 

A different time. A same time.

I could not remember what I asked, but to which he gave the following reply, "I want people to find out what clothes I liked to wear, what food I liked to eat. All the trivialities of my life, right up to the colossal institutions that hold up more than my mere individual self, I want the people to want to find out with a ferocity of passion."

He asked me about my life, and I told him. And in his reply, in those few, simple words, he changed everything.

"Surely there must be more to it."

The sound of settling has to be murdered.