A breeze, and with it the scent of balsam, caressed him as he stood in the limit of the b every last(predicate)room. The large chamber was decorated give care a residence of the harvest, sprinkled with festive trappings and garlands of f exclusively told flowers. To the left, s incessantlyal musicians prepared for the nights revelry, musical arrangement their chairs and tuning their instruments; compete lively little tunes to the empty antechamber and the flowers. A meeting of tables stood clustered to the right; empty now, nevertheless the eve would unwrap them overflowing with food and drink. At the removed end of the hall, a fountain murmured. Water flowed from the pitchers of three maidens, individually as beautiful of face and figure as had ever been captured by artists scrub or sculptors chisel. And the smell of flowers drifted by him. The flowers of the harvest. The flowers of life.         Life. That was what would be celeb rated here(predicate) tonight. Life in all of its glory, all of its wonder, all of its beauty. melody would play, dancers would whirl, people would laugh and love and live. It was what these decorations were all about. Life.         The man dour from the doorway, marrows cast downward. Life, he thought, a celebration of beauty and gaiety; a gift given us by the gods.
He remembered the words that he had been taught as a child, not so many years ago. And the memory do him sad. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Later, as the musicians contend and the dancers spun, the man stood alone, expressionless, in his small room. From there he could adjudicate the music drifting on the eve ning breeze. In his minds eye he could see t! he dancers in their delightful movements. He could realize them and he could see them, but he could not step with them. The celebration of life was... If you want to make grow a full essay, order it on our website:
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