The last
of the three big monotheistic religions in the world is Christianity.
Christianity appeared for the first time in Judea, after the birth of Jesus
Christ, whose teachings gave birth to a new religion. After his death, his
disciples dedicated their lives to travel throughout the Roman Empire and give
speeches in order to reach out to people that later converted to Christianity. Christians were persecuted and killed many
times by command of the Roman emperors until they realized that the religion
had spread so much that the smartest decision to make in order to gain support
from the Romans was to declare it the official religion of the empire. As a
result, Constantine the Great, converted to Christianity and declared the
religion the official religion of the whole Empire.

Yes, I will tell my story twice, both my public and private life, with a double objective, as suggested by my grandfather, the first and greatest travador of all times, William IX: If one could write about his life of passion, one could live two lives. Now, I have made myself smile, because the true maximum reads: If one could write about his life of virtue, one could live two lives.
My life of virtue would compose a small book. Should I begin with my birth in Aquitaine? With the mystery of my parents? The war between my aunts and my mother? The bitter fate of my father? So much to tell, so much to tell... Everything is so compelling. The fertile soil from which I fed, but this is his story, not mine. My childhood was a paradise, as I remember it. Did the adults protect me from their misery and resentment? I doubt it. I rather think that everybody loved me, regardless of their other loyalties and their animosities against each other, and love is what makes a child happy, right? I hope my children would remember that. No, my story began when I was fifteen years old, the night I occupied the center of stage in the theater of the world.
My life of virtue would compose a small book. Should I begin with my birth in Aquitaine? With the mystery of my parents? The war between my aunts and my mother? The bitter fate of my father? So much to tell, so much to tell... Everything is so compelling. The fertile soil from which I fed, but this is his story, not mine. My childhood was a paradise, as I remember it. Did the adults protect me from their misery and resentment? I doubt it. I rather think that everybody loved me, regardless of their other loyalties and their animosities against each other, and love is what makes a child happy, right? I hope my children would remember that. No, my story began when I was fifteen years old, the night I occupied the center of stage in the theater of the world.
Interesting... Learned something new!
ReplyDeleteI am glad!!! Thank you
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