Converging our gapped worlds was the Triangular Trade. Distant ideals became proximal, and continents interplayed in self-interest. Incentives met contest while ships met sea. Yet, there was little wonder about the underpinning; the Atlantic route circumvented was as much a commerce epicenter as spiritual awakening. While we were taught to believe history doesn’t repeat, it certainly reprises itself as motifs. Ones clear as mud before we belatedly regret living…
History aged, as did its taste for human genius. The triangle has become anachronism in modern day. However, the epicenter now always emerges, so recognizing contexts are the key to all corners. Once found, confining borders become easy to recognize.
And there was the metropolis. An ever-apparent one, yet nobody paid a second view to see it as such. To the south a commercial, and to the north a shipyard, the latter having exported some of the finest spirits, both alcoholic and non-tangible. From the bird’s eye was a bare island not many locals ventured. Seemingly, there was plenty of plenty, and yet no boundaries.
He then appeared. From around the old triangle of the world. To him it was no longer that shape, but rather three parallels at constant, running across the metropolis grounds he step foot once upon when. But at question wasn’t discovery nor foresight. It was the race against time before another lesson passed and remorse took place.
William W. Huang is an analyst on Wall Street. He enjoys world travel and cuisine as much as a good glass of whiskey at home. Less tangibly, he believes in putting his affairs in order before they become overdue.