I’m quite comfortable in my den. If I’m not doing a bit of housework or something similar, I’m having visitors. They usually bring something with them Gold, precious stones. jewellery. All the things we dragons enjoy. They also bring another kind of treasure. Stories. (If there’s something we dragons love more than gold, it’s stories.) I love the stories of other lives. I hear the sadnessss; the delights,:the pains and the pleasures. The “big” things. The “small” things. They entrance me.
Usually I do the dragonish equivalent of sitting back in my chair with my eyes closed. Just listening to the music. The high notes; the bass and the treble. I also hear the dissonant notes. the sounds that jar and clash. Sometimes I’ll comment on them. Other times I just hear them. What I have come to notice is that I see some people with whom I cannot sit comfortably. If I sit straight I feel uncomfortable. If I lie back I feel uncomfortable. Sitting forward feels no better. I spend our time trying to fit myself to their needs. I find these people are the ones who are most wary of me. Will I eat them? Burn them alive? Seduce them? (Or all three!) They are the ones who cannot get comfortable in their own skin. So we spend our time mutually fidgeting and itching. Mostly we get over these difficulties. I can sit back and listen. They can sit back and tell their stories. Every now and again the itch is too much. Then they leave and find a different kind of dragon. One who suits their view of things better than me. Someone who won’t wonder about the itches but simply give them some “interventions” to allow them to cope better with their itching. Mmmm… 
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Don't give up
