~ storytime

In that city and in those times and days, there lived a man named Aristides, son of Lysimachus. Aristides had won renown as a statesman and general, a hero of Marathon and Salamis, but he remained a very humble man. He forsook all earthly wealth, choosing to live a life of austerity and discipline, and gave away all he had to the poor; for his great wisdom and generosity, he was known as Aristides the Just.

One day, Aristides was walking through the marketplace when he saw a man standing awkwardly in the street, holding a potsherd in one hand and a nail in the other. He approached Aristides. "Excuse me, kirios," he said, "there is to be a vote of ostracism in the assembly today, but I don't know how to read or write. Could you scratch a name on this potsherd for me?"

"Of course," said Aristides, always happy to help a fellow citizen participate in the democracy he'd spent his life defending. "And what name shall I carve?"

"Aristides," the man replied. "I'd never heard of him before today, but they tell me he's called 'Aristides the Just' and I hate him because I know he thinks he's better than me."

"What was that name again?" Aristides asked, trying to hide his shock and concern.

"Aristedes," the man repeated.

hey friend

dont kill yourself tonight ok

you have a really pretty smile and i know its not always easy to manage one but itd be a bummer if we never had the chance to see it ever again