Any cot reminded zorba of the anvil. Like a blacksmith, he saw that as a place to lay something and hammer it into the desired shape. He had hammered many an iron willed babe into shape, on the anvil of life! But his greatest chagrin was that unlike the blacksmith’s they refused to perpetually retain the shape hammered into! The babes had to be rehammered the moment he saw them forgetting the hammering or rebellion creeping in to test his slave driver traits.
September 4, 2008