Diaspora

I watched them fly away, to warmer places and better times. Today I sat with two of them, now thriving in another garden. We had the makings of a golden generation, but the gold was adulterated and the meaning was lost. This is what happened in pre-Elizabethan England, when the king made money by shaving his own gold to finance spurious endeavours. O Henry, Henry, if it were not for your ghastly sense of economic policy, England would never have learnt the mastery of the world.

What an odd history it is, that spawned the merlion.