The Life of Cato - The Poet, His friend, and A Beautiful Home (primary)

 My father had been spending weekends in the bayside ritzy area of Rome. This, he said, was where all the stereotypes of high class people dwelled. While my father himself came from a long privilege government background, he has always put forth his hardworking attitude which overshadows his social class. He hates it when people flaunt there wealth over there, but he surely doesn't mind doing work for them and taking their wealth. My father had been building a beautiful bayside home and next weekend he said it would be finally finished. He wanted me to come over and help him deliver materials and wrap up the final touches. What is great about making deliveries for my father is he gives me all the money to go get the materials. Today I gathered beautiful marbles to finish the flooring and my father basically gave me a year allowance which I had to exchange for thousands of precious looking marbles. This house was going to be beautiful when it was finished and even when I arrived it was already looking complete. I spent the afternoon with my father sticking marbles into the quickly forming hard clay floor and it looked magical. We didn't even have marbles in our house and when I asked my father why he shrugged it off and replied, "Cause, its too fancy." After second thought, this house did resemble more of a museum than a house, but then again, living in a museum would be kind of cool. My friend Pluto, who was an excellent town entertainer and even better poet, also thought the home was beautiful. So, he asked my father if he could spend an hour in and around the house as the sunset went down. I ended up staying with him and he kept noticing the smallest details and jotting them down, things that even I as a builder didn't notice, he had a different eye, an artist's eye. He held appreciation for the smallest things and made the biggest deal about them through his words. He described the kaleidoscope affect of the marble flooring, how the home looked out into the ocean like a bird, and how each room had its own excellent view of the bay. It was very cool to me to see how differently he saw architecture than I did. I saw it as money and measurements, but he saw it for so much more and wrote about a cold brick building as a warm and luxurious living space. Things were changing in Rome, rapidly and something about seeing my friend write this poem inspired me to work outside of my element.