“Nowadays. people know the price of everything and the value of nothing”- Oscar Wilde

What your eyes are gazing at is a rudimentary Ten-Dollar bill.

Ten Dollars.

What are Ten Dollars to a Western & spoiled teenager to me- living in the second instillation of Rome?

What are Ten- Dollars to me?

No, seriously, what is ten- dollars?

I mean, how exactly does one quantify & constitute the underlying value of it. Has it been spell-bounded by a divine entity? Or has it been cast its value by media & the mortal superior? & the question is, why do we fall prey to such concepts, allowing them to transmute the way we interact with life, people, & more importantly, our emotions as well as our ego?

Have you ever looked at the intricacies of a Ten-Dollar bill? How beautiful it really is? How meticulous it is, what it symbolizes, how many atoms make up the art that it really is? Seriously! I mean, you can spin the value of this Ten-Dollar bill in any reality you would like. The machinations of an eroding are quite literally and figuratively ( double-entendre due to hyperinflation)changing the ways we look at this beautiful Ten- Dollar bill!

I think, that there is no such concept as a “boring story”, but an awful storyteller. A good storyteller could manipulate & animate any form of life, casting in cosmic meaning.

Which, inevitably leads me to the value that this Ten-Dollar bill holds in my heart, juxtaposing to the price.

I am an avid drinker of water, & I drink as much water a day to hydrate an entire town in Missouri, so I have a myriad of bags to recycle at my local supermarket.

The story is as followed-

1; My parents articulated to return them to the supermarket to recycle.

2 ; I procrastinated to recycle.

Like a seven-year-old boy that owned a PlayStation2 with no memory cards, I made as much progress & was as fruitful in my journey as an ant at an anteater highschool reunion.

That made as much sense as the Holocaust, but I like it- So I shall keep that.

Anyway, to stop digressing astronomically, my two parents who I love oh-so-very much, that quite honestly spoil to a hellish extent ended up crusading to a local ShopRite to deposit a comically large number of white bags. To their luck, there was a line the length of the Berlin Wall, & it took them a whopping two hours to deposit bottles that were priced- not valued- at five cents.

The amount of currency that was returned?

Ten-Dollars.

Ten-Dollars.

One would make more slaving away doing minimum wage in the worst-paying joints in the States.

Yet, my beautiful parents that love me oh-so-very much, my beautiful parents that have instilled practically all that I am to a certain extent, my beautiful parents, that have taught me both sides of the spectrum- for what it means to be a real man & what it encapsulates to be woman — — — -

Decides to give the Ten Dollars to me!

I am treasuring these Ten Dollars for the rest of my life.

Those Ten-Dollars are not worth the price it has been laced, but the divine value I lace it.

To you, it may mean goose-egg, but to me, it symbolizes my parent's vehement & silver-dreamed love for me; A feeling that could only be articulated in the arms of your mother that, unfortunately, is slowly becoming evanescently ephemeral in an eroding & emasculating society.

Price, well-

Price could be illustrated by the way society casts an object, metaphysical idea, or person. Per se, the price of honey that the bee’s produce during their daily 9–5.

Value, well-

Value could be illustrated by the way one analyzes the wonders of how bees produced such godly nectar.

Those Ten- Dollars will eternally be symbolic of my parent's love for me not just for that moment in time, but all the sacrificing, all the care, all the stress that they have endured just for the hope that I become pious in a chaotically entropic world.

So, the next time you receive a gift from the universe- whether it be literal currency such as dollars, or figurative currency such as time, good parents, good friends, a beautiful girlfriend that smells like a rose field in the middle of Venice in the year 1983- treasure it. Treasure everything that they are, even if it is intangible to fathom all that we are.

Or at least, attempt to.

For like the concept of literal hyperinflation, time will catch up to you- only figuratively this time.

Those Ten-Dollars back in the year 1800 were priced at 207 dollars.

Who knows what the value of my Ten-Dollars will be in the near & far future.

I do. I know.

Notice how “ Ten- Dollars” was eternally capitalized throughout my opus

& for whoever you may be reading this, do not be manipulated by society when they vilify your values. Whatever undisclosed value you place on any object, metaphysical idea, or someone.

It would be a more wasted time than The Great Gatsby waiting for his beloved & lovely Daisy, just to get murdered at the end of the movie.

What are your Ten-Dollars?

Before Michelangelo created the masterpiece of David, it was just a piece of Marble!