Why do I trade; is it for naught?
I deal in mere trinkets. Relics of days past. Objects of bygone ages. To trade the metals.
To go back to the days of old. Oh to be like the trader who would brave a perilous trek to sell their goods. Why do men like me do this? Why has the vocation of the trader survived through the ages?
Is it for wealth that I do this, is it for financial gain? Or is it something more? Is the reason that I do this grounded deeper within my very soul?
The joy the trade gives me is worth more than money. Gold and jewels could not compare to the reward that I glean from my affairs. It provides worth, it gives me purpose.
My trade provides people with value. The goods I provide bring joy to the buyer. Not only this, they make me a man. My goods were worthless before they were taken to their house. These trinkets give me value, give me life.
It could be likened to the hunt. To seek after that perfect buck. Next to chose the weapon, and pick the idea location. When the buyer comes I would liken it to the release of the arrow, and the kill. Is this why?
Why there are still those of us who seek the trade. This is why there will always be those of us who are like traders of old. The deal is almost sensual to those of our kind. Those among us who are the merchants.
To deprive a man of his natural liberty and to deny to him the ordinary amenities of life is worse then starving the body; it is starvation of the soul, the dweller in the body.
- Mahatma Gandhi