A.D. 370
I've been home from school this year. My parents have been a little tight on money, and I had to come home. I've had more time on my hands than was good for me, I suppose. I spend a lot of time at the baths, maybe too much time. Mother hates that, but father is proud of me, I can tell, proud that I am becoming a man.
Last night we left the baths and hung out in the streets of Thagaste until it was very late--playing our inane games and making noise and trouble, cat-calling to the young girls who dared to walk the streets with us abroad. Then, when that fun was all spent and no fun anymore, we had the idea of stealing pears from a nearby orchard. It was near our family vineyard, and we climbed the fence and loaded our togas with pears. Dozens of them.
Funny thing is that we took so many of them but they weren't even that good. They didn't look particularly good--they were spotty and small. And they surely didn't taste good--I think I had one bite. And none of us needed pears. We have a bowlful of better pears sitting on the table at home, and all of my friends come from wealthy homes. We ended up throwing all the pears to the hogs!
I have to say, though, that I loved it. I loved the danger of it. I loved the company of my fellow thieves. But most of all, I loved the theft itself. Just the sin of it. If I weren't afraid of mother finding out and disappointing her, I might do it again.
I've been home from school this year. My parents have been a little tight on money, and I had to come home. I've had more time on my hands than was good for me, I suppose. I spend a lot of time at the baths, maybe too much time. Mother hates that, but father is proud of me, I can tell, proud that I am becoming a man.
Last night we left the baths and hung out in the streets of Thagaste until it was very late--playing our inane games and making noise and trouble, cat-calling to the young girls who dared to walk the streets with us abroad. Then, when that fun was all spent and no fun anymore, we had the idea of stealing pears from a nearby orchard. It was near our family vineyard, and we climbed the fence and loaded our togas with pears. Dozens of them.
Funny thing is that we took so many of them but they weren't even that good. They didn't look particularly good--they were spotty and small. And they surely didn't taste good--I think I had one bite. And none of us needed pears. We have a bowlful of better pears sitting on the table at home, and all of my friends come from wealthy homes. We ended up throwing all the pears to the hogs!
I have to say, though, that I loved it. I loved the danger of it. I loved the company of my fellow thieves. But most of all, I loved the theft itself. Just the sin of it. If I weren't afraid of mother finding out and disappointing her, I might do it again.
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