I am re-reading this old novel, Papillon it's the title. This second time reading enables me to find true "beauty" and details that I might certainly have missed during my first reading which took place more than ten years ago. Those things include, but not limited to : Papi's love to his father, friends, and freedom; love scene between Papi and his two indian wives; and his collections of pearl from his Goajira Indian wives. Remaining details will be presented to you, dear browser, next time I finish the book, so bear with me.

I won't talk about the book, though. Rather, it is my poor attempt to bridge your attention to the main subject, pearl. This is another story.

Once upon a time, there was an ego. In his charge were several pearls, more than one. All was clean, bright, priceless. No human eyes would ever turn away from each one them, for, surely, they would take time, even one glimpse, to steal a few good look at them. The ego made full use of them to attract any attention left in the world to him, every day and every night. No wonder, people around the ego aknowledged the very existance of this ego along with the pearls. The ego, formerly known as the Ego, eventually melted with the pearls. Then, there was no such thing as the ego, but rather The Ego AND Pearls. Or, so thus the world around saw at them.

For the ego, pearls were under his charge. People would marvel at them, coveted for them, or even praise him for them. He was in charge, but could he maintain their values?