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A short folk story for you. You've probably heard it before, but I was going through my email archives, and this is how I wrote it once. I'm proud of it, as it goes...
===
It's Italy. Perhaps the time of the Renaissance. Perhaps in Tuscany.
The sun is dappling down, turing the hills slightly golden, the tile roofs carnelian...
Anyway, a very ordinary fellow walks into the antechamber of the the town physician.
"Dottore, I don't know what I can do. I am depressed. Depressed not in a shallow, surface manner, but depressed down into my bones. So much so, that I fear for my health. Dottore, what can I do?"
The doctor ponders for a while...
"Signore, I'm not certain there's anything I can do... We know how to treat some diseases of the body, but of the spirit? That we cannot... It is left to God."
"Truly, Dottore? Is there nothing?"
"Hmm... I know! I hear that tonight, our town will be graced by a circus. And in that circus, there is a clown, one who plays Pantelone -- I hear he is mirth itself! Every move causes you to laugh, every word, to roll among the seats! Surely, if this clown -- Pagliacci, I think his name is -- if this clown cannot remove your melancholy, I don't know what can!"
"Ah, Dottore. A most excellent idea. Under most circumstances, I would agree with you heartily -- and I can see why your teachers in Bologna were pleased with you. But, Dottore, I fear there is but one small problem..."
"I am Pagliacci."
===
It's Italy. Perhaps the time of the Renaissance. Perhaps in Tuscany.
The sun is dappling down, turing the hills slightly golden, the tile roofs carnelian...
Anyway, a very ordinary fellow walks into the antechamber of the the town physician.
"Dottore, I don't know what I can do. I am depressed. Depressed not in a shallow, surface manner, but depressed down into my bones. So much so, that I fear for my health. Dottore, what can I do?"
The doctor ponders for a while...
"Signore, I'm not certain there's anything I can do... We know how to treat some diseases of the body, but of the spirit? That we cannot... It is left to God."
"Truly, Dottore? Is there nothing?"
"Hmm... I know! I hear that tonight, our town will be graced by a circus. And in that circus, there is a clown, one who plays Pantelone -- I hear he is mirth itself! Every move causes you to laugh, every word, to roll among the seats! Surely, if this clown -- Pagliacci, I think his name is -- if this clown cannot remove your melancholy, I don't know what can!"
"Ah, Dottore. A most excellent idea. Under most circumstances, I would agree with you heartily -- and I can see why your teachers in Bologna were pleased with you. But, Dottore, I fear there is but one small problem..."
"I am Pagliacci."
