there are two types of people in this strange world.
people who dream of power, people who dream of freedom.
which type of person are you? old man mose asked.
you see which type i am, jeremiah johnson replied easily.
do you only dream of power? old man mose reciprocated..
good one, jeremiah acknowledged laughingly, looking out at the skyline.
the skyline was most impressive, dozens of towering shining skyscrapers.
the two old friends sipped their drinks and sighed contentedly.
they had been lads together, down by the old mill.
jeremiah was a son of the richest man in town.
though under gardener falls was not a particularly large town.
mose - bright-eyed tyke mose then - was already a confirmed layabout.
he thought - knew - that jeremiah and his family were rich.
they had all the money in the world and more.
and could spend it all day every day until doomsday.
and have plenty left over to spend in the grave.
sometimes mose was invited to dinner at the johnson house.
he always stole something - and took it to nick’s pawnshop.
the years went slowly by - jeremiah and mose drifted apart.
jeremiah took over the family business - it crashed and burned,
jeremiah became a homeless bum - a wanderer and an outcast.
mose saved the money he got from everything he stole.
he went to law school, and made millions on corporate battlefields.
jeremiah killed a man in a fight over a crack pipe.
suddenly feeling sentimental, mose defended him and got him off.
now they sat in mose’s office and watched the sunset.
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