10
“Socrates loved to hear himself talk. Imagine how thrilled he was when I wrote a book that was about his discussions.” Plato laughed as he spoke. His pale eyes shone bright in the dawning moonlight as we stood atop the roof.
When Nia and I came here months back, it was during Socrates’s wake. He was likely the only man in the history of the world to attend his own going home celebration. It had come as no great shock to his many friends. Socrates had been ready to pass on for some time. It had been his choice to move on from this world as he grew wary and weary of the new generation. In a time where information was so readily at hand and opinions were so wide and available at such a speed, he’d felt like the modern society was less and less like a democracy and more like a hive mind.
