Mayor Haddas/Conversations
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Start
You are welcome in the village of Ezra, seedling. Sit with me and watch the sun breathe shadows over the day.
Tree
HA.......
HA HA HA. So I am. I split stone and joggle my fingers at the salt sky. So I do today, so I did yesterday.
Old
I tally so many autumns, but until I am black with rot, I cannot be ring-right. The etching on my undertrunk places my seed-date to the reign of =SULTAN4=, so I am told.
Eater
HA HA HA. I suppose so.
Mayor
HA. I stood long enough. I joggled my fingers at the salt sky, and I watched thy seedlings sprout and wither, and I watched thou place stones in straight lines like the bees and their nests of wax. I stood until the stones were nigh by me. The people followed the stones.
Reliefs
Ezra is more than tree-old. It's stone-old. Seedlings have lived here since our roots dreamed of joggling their fingers at the salt sky.
They ate earth and belched freight at the stars, and this place was their stomach.
Later, as the Star-Tree died and they buried their dead under its roots, this was their funerary place.
Now, we nurse electric milk from the old and aching temple to turn our wheels and grind our seeds and grains. Now we are they.
StarTree
Aye, the Blue Mother who breaks the sky. Those who Eat called her Gjaus, and those who Wake call her Spindle.
Warden
One called 1-FF, who wandered in errancy out from the Tomb and was reprogrammed by the Daughter who lived and died in the rot-black box, nine Daughters ago.
Merchants
To the northwest seek the rot-black box. There a plant and Daughter live. There cats of chrome purr at tiny suns.
Work
Ezra is old and has long since cut a groove into the world and resides there in stillness and harmony. But Zothom the Penitent One is a seedling, new to the world, and he quakes at all the tensing the world does. Perhaps you can share in his angst.
Go find him by the headstones for the dead.