because of all my history of nightpraise again to get in written form, I post it here the next day continued even as history. the people to whom I have promised to get by mail, of course, they sent anyway.
lived in a distant land used to be a man when was is not important, because this man's life differed very little from the life of human dignity in front of him and the life of his grandson to be very similar be. It was a poor life, or how the people of this country said among themselves: a frugal. They lived on what they could with their own hands to wrest his land and his herd. What little was needed in addition, one had on a small, remote market to buy.
It was dry, this country and only those who have a water hole could call his own, had the opportunity to create even a private foundation. Those who could not had to deal with all sorts of services earn money to buy the little market on the most important. And there were many who painted on market days around the small tables and booths.
The man of whom is our history, was one of those lucky ones who owned a source. His land was near the foot of a mighty mountain. On its slope, there where it started to become rocky, sprang a small trickle. His grandfather had built there a small stone enclosure, which could collect water. Indeed, as the man through his goats to water them, and brought his children there, the water for household use in heavy clay jugs. An outlet resulted in a narrow, excavated channel that led to some small orchards and palm groves. This was able to be irrigated.
The man spent much care to clean the source, the basin and channel and to keep in order. Every day he went there to remove fallen into branches or dead birds or to scoop the mud from the canal. This was his first visit every morning. Before it went to his fields or sent his son with the herd on the road, he went to the source, looked right and drew with the hollow of his hand a few sips of water for themselves
There were not many other people in his life. His family, a woman and a not very small number of children. Until a few years ago his mother was still alive, but now she was dead. The neighbors lived too far away for regular mitzubekommen something from them. You just saw on the market to deal with them to haggle over prices or sometimes even to argue. Where they actually lived, he did not know most. If one of them walked past his house, he would have entertained him friendly and extensively and hoped that his guest would not come back later with lots of men and weapons.
It had been thinking so long as he could. Many, many long years. There was nothing in the mind of the man and his family, which gave an inkling that this could ever change.
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