“How long have you been here,” the newcomer asked.
“As long as the trees that give you shade,” calmly whispered the old-timer.
“And you, Ms., how long have you been here?”
“A week or so, I think,” replied the young lady.
“Yes, a week ago today,” added the old-timer.
“Who is the eldest here,” continued the newcomer.
“John was here first,” the old-timer said, pointing toward some flowers to the east.
“How long has John been here,” the newcomer asked before the old-timer barely finished his sentence.
“Longer than the river that runs below you,” answered the old-timer.
“That’s a long time,” the newcomer replied in amazement.
“Not really,” the old-timer responded, yarning and leaning back with his hands
interlocked behind his head. “Time does not matter so much here.”
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