Many great people have been blessed by the beloved free-flowing nature of her ancestors. Always a servant, never to complain. In the shadow, most of time time. Present, when needed.
Peace treaties were signed, love letters from the great romantics were written and sent all over the globe to engrave them into the annals of humanity. Death and destruction followed after her ancestors were used, the servant also functions in the wrong hands. Such is life at high courts.
And yet, she longs for her own history, one that she can never tell about. Only to keep in her heart, the refillable chamber of liquid memories to be made. Pressure is immense but mankind has taken to digital solutions. Time has passed by her profession, her reason of being. Vanished.
She is beautiful. A perfect black gloss covers her, golden in the few places. To show her heritage, her lineage and the proud nature of her being. Not tacky, dignified and luxurious. Her finish is soft to touch, warm and heavy. She displays longevity in the face of accelerating development and change. All part are perfectly aligned, fitting to the last inch. Not a single wiggle, no room for mistakes. She is ready for history. A queen ready to meet her destiny.
And so I humbly take another sheet of paper, as heavy as I can afford, place it onto the writing pad. I look at the queen and feel her heaviness in my palm. I won’t make history today, no matter how hard I will try. Yet she serves, as so many of her lineage before. Humble, yet dignified.
„My dear friend, this letter…“