There is a well known tribe of people who are feared by their neighbors. This tribe is known to be greedy and ruthless. They hurt people and seem not to care. It even seems at times that they take joy in cruelty. Atrocity is well within their repertoire.
Now there is this report: One member of the tribe – a young girl – is a poet. She writes beautiful love poems. All of the tribe gather each sunset and listen heartbroken as she tells of love lost and love won and love that never was. Even the most callous among them weep for her tenderness.
Everyone calls her Treasure.
I’ve been wondering whether I should have sent them all a Valentine.