History according Pao Cheng
In a summer day, more than two thousand years, the philosopher Pao Cheng sat on the edge of a stream and began to divine the future on the shell of a turtle. The heat and the murmur of water, however, soon made his thoughts wander. Gradually forgetting about the staining of turtle shell. Cheng Pao began to infer the history of the world since that time. "Because of this deep stream thought - and time flies. This small channel the flow grows and soon becomes a large flow rate until it empties into the sea, across the ocean, rises as vapor into clouds, falls back on the mountain with rain and then descends again become the same stream ... "This was more or less, the course of his ideas and so, having sensed the roundness of the earth, its motion around the sun, translation of the other stars and the proper rotation of galaxy and the world: "Bah! He cried - this way I think about the stars away from the earth of Han and his men are still center and the axis around which revolve all the humanities there ... "And to think of the men came to think of the story. Unraveled, as if they were recorded in the shell of the turtle, the great future events, wars, migrations, plagues and the epics of all peoples throughout the millennia. In the eyes of his imagination and fell the great nations were born small who then made great and powerful before falling in turn. Also emerged all races and cities inhabited by them which stood a majestic moment and then fell to the ground to be confused with debris and dross generation. One of these cities from all which existed at the future imagined by Pao Cheng attracted wide attention; your ramblings became more precise as to details that composed it, as if this city enclose the enigma directly related to him. He strained his eyes and tried to penetrate inside all accidents of this topography uncreated. The force of his imagination was so great that he was walking through the streets, he looked up bewildered by the grandeur of the buildings and the beauty of the monuments. Walked a long time Pao Cheng that city by mixing with the locals dressed in strange clothes and spoke a language very slow, incomprehensible, until, suddenly, she stopped at a house whose facade appeared to be inscribed with the signs of a mystery that drew him irresistibly. For one of the windows of the building could envision a man who was writing. At that time Pao Cheng felt there was something that interested him intimately. He closed his eyes and stroking his forehead beaded with sweat with elongated tips of his fingers tried to penetrate the thinking inside the room where the man was writing. By an effort of imagination is raised pavement and crossed the rim of the window was open, which sifted a fresh breeze that shook the sheets covered with unintelligible characters, which lay piled on the table. Holding her breath, Pao Cheng cautiously approached the man and looked over their shoulders. The man had not noticed his presence he seemed absorbed in his task of covering those sheets of paper with these signs, whose meaning still eluded the understanding of Pao Cheng . From time to time the man stopped, looked thoughtfully out the window, aimed a small white cylinder burning at one end and threw a puff of blue smoke by the boa and noses, then turned to writing. Cheng Pao looked at the pages that lay in disarray. Began to decipher the words that were written on them, his face clouded. A shiver of terror crossed, as the creeping of a poisonous snake, the back of his body. "This man is writing a story," he said. Cheng Pao reread the words written on pages. "The story is called history as Pao Cheng and is a philosopher of antiquity that one day he sat on the edge of a stream and began to think ..." "Then I am the memory of that man man and if I forgot to die !..."
Man, no sooner had written on paper the words "... if I miss that man die," he stopped, turned to aim the cigarette and let out while the smoke from his mouth his eyes darkened as if before he crossed a rain-laden cloud. He realized then that he had condemned himself for all eternity, to continue writing the story of Pao Cheng , as if her character was forgotten and died, he was not a thought of Pao Cheng, also disappeared.
In a summer day, more than two thousand years, the philosopher Pao Cheng sat on the edge of a stream and began to divine the future on the shell of a turtle. The heat and the murmur of water, however, soon made his thoughts wander. Gradually forgetting about the staining of turtle shell. Cheng Pao began to infer the history of the world since that time. "Because of this deep stream thought - and time flies. This small channel the flow grows and soon becomes a large flow rate until it empties into the sea, across the ocean, rises as vapor into clouds, falls back on the mountain with rain and then descends again become the same stream ... "This was more or less, the course of his ideas and so, having sensed the roundness of the earth, its motion around the sun, translation of the other stars and the proper rotation of galaxy and the world: "Bah! He cried - this way I think about the stars away from the earth of Han and his men are still center and the axis around which revolve all the humanities there ... "And to think of the men came to think of the story. Unraveled, as if they were recorded in the shell of the turtle, the great future events, wars, migrations, plagues and the epics of all peoples throughout the millennia. In the eyes of his imagination and fell the great nations were born small who then made great and powerful before falling in turn. Also emerged all races and cities inhabited by them which stood a majestic moment and then fell to the ground to be confused with debris and dross generation. One of these cities from all which existed at the future imagined by Pao Cheng attracted wide attention; your ramblings became more precise as to details that composed it, as if this city enclose the enigma directly related to him. He strained his eyes and tried to penetrate inside all accidents of this topography uncreated. The force of his imagination was so great that he was walking through the streets, he looked up bewildered by the grandeur of the buildings and the beauty of the monuments. Walked a long time Pao Cheng that city by mixing with the locals dressed in strange clothes and spoke a language very slow, incomprehensible, until, suddenly, she stopped at a house whose facade appeared to be inscribed with the signs of a mystery that drew him irresistibly. For one of the windows of the building could envision a man who was writing. At that time Pao Cheng felt there was something that interested him intimately. He closed his eyes and stroking his forehead beaded with sweat with elongated tips of his fingers tried to penetrate the thinking inside the room where the man was writing. By an effort of imagination is raised pavement and crossed the rim of the window was open, which sifted a fresh breeze that shook the sheets covered with unintelligible characters, which lay piled on the table. Holding her breath, Pao Cheng cautiously approached the man and looked over their shoulders. The man had not noticed his presence he seemed absorbed in his task of covering those sheets of paper with these signs, whose meaning still eluded the understanding of Pao Cheng . From time to time the man stopped, looked thoughtfully out the window, aimed a small white cylinder burning at one end and threw a puff of blue smoke by the boa and noses, then turned to writing. Cheng Pao looked at the pages that lay in disarray. Began to decipher the words that were written on them, his face clouded. A shiver of terror crossed, as the creeping of a poisonous snake, the back of his body. "This man is writing a story," he said. Cheng Pao reread the words written on pages. "The story is called history as Pao Cheng and is a philosopher of antiquity that one day he sat on the edge of a stream and began to think ..." "Then I am the memory of that man man and if I forgot to die !..."
Man, no sooner had written on paper the words "... if I miss that man die," he stopped, turned to aim the cigarette and let out while the smoke from his mouth his eyes darkened as if before he crossed a rain-laden cloud. He realized then that he had condemned himself for all eternity, to continue writing the story of Pao Cheng , as if her character was forgotten and died, he was not a thought of Pao Cheng, also disappeared.
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