— You know, for having such a bleak outlook on pirates you're well on your way to becoming one. Sprung a man from jail, commandeered a ship of the fleet, sailed with a buccaneer crew
out of Tortuga. And you're completely obsessed with treasure.
— That's not true. I am not obsessed with treasure.
— Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.
That's exactly what I thought when we were first told the tale. Buried on an Island of the Dead what cannot be found except for those who know where it is. Find it, We did. There be the chest. Inside be the gold. And we took them all. We spent them and traded them and frittered them away on drink and food and pleasurable company. The more we gave them away, the more we came to realise the drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, and all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Turner. Compelled by greed we were, but now we are consumed by it.
It strikes me that stampeding is at best a sporting proposition.
— Incredible! Gold! More than anyone has ever seen! Tons of gold!
— You're the same like the others. The glitter of gold is imparing your sight.
— What is that I have to see?
— Can't you understand that, here, the gold has no value? Haven't you noticed that is used to make the most usual objects?
— What else is there? What... I can see rolls of fabric. I don't understand. What are they used for?
— Each family, since the birth of our nation, had the responsability, every year, to bring a gift to our King. Farmer or politician, merchant or soldier, prostitute or priest. Everyone was obliged to saw its veil. All the gifts were gathered and preserved in the palace's tresorery room. This is that room... Millions of people, during million years... Here, inside, is our entire nation.
— The treasure...
— The battles, the harvests, the blueprints of this construction, of an unfinished one, the meeting between two lovers, the list of all those who died after a terrible earthquake... Prayers to the Gods, food recipes, the names of the emperor's sons, Beleche-a simple shoe master's sons. The price of sweetcorn, the profphecies of gypsies, the last 20.000 years Sun eclypses, the list of the dinasties... These canvases tell our story.
J'ai rêvé les amours divins,
L'ivresse des bras et des vins,
L'or, l'argent, les royaumes vains,
Moi, dix-huit ans, Elle, seize ans.
Parmi les sentiers amusants
Nous irions sur nos alezans.