18/08/2025
Gold for Corn.
The world had ended in silence. Cities crumbled, rivers dried, and hunger became the only law.
A farmer sat with the last sack of corn, each kernel guarded like a crown jewel.
From the wasteland staggered a miner, arms heavy with gold. His eyes were wild, his lips cracked.
“Take it all,” he pleaded, shoving the gleaming nuggets forward. “Every ounce I bled for in the mines. Just one cup of corn—please.”
The farmer studied him, then the treasure. Once, he would have traded his land, his soul, for even a fraction of that wealth. Now, it was nothing but shiny stones.
“You dug for riches,” the farmer said, voice flat. “I dug for life. Look what matters now.”
He dropped a single kernel into the miner’s palm. The man wept—not from gratitude, but from the cruel truth pressing down on him:
he had spent a lifetime clawing at the earth for gold, only to discover too late that life itself was the rarest treasure.
The wind buried the gold in dust. The corn, small and plain, still gleamed with power enough to outlast an empire.
