Lonely is the name to be used for the secluded one. To sell one's goods to nobody at a bazaar in a clearing of a forest which is secluded from the public is the definition of insanity. I only sold one type of good. It was the light of a magic lantern of a candlestick. This was the magical light that could lead one to fountain of youth.
It was the time of the year where the spring season restores your youth. You wander far into the woods following the water's current, looking for the fountain. But this fountain of youth could only be found with the magical light of a candlestick. You pursue the current and go as far as its gushing spring source but there still is no fountain. But when you find it and drink from it, gone are the continual squeakings and creaking of old age.
You lie quietly by the stream with only the gentle winds blowing away the stress in your mind. You know that upon returning to civilization you will wear out again. But the crane of God's hand pulls you to your priestly inclinations and spiritual calling. Calling you out of doors, to the woods, to live a lonely private life of seclusion in nature. But you cannot survive any longer in the woods, so you follow the winding steam into the city where it leads to a fountain of a baby blowing water out of his mouth. Yes, this is it. The fountain of youth. You walk up to the steam of water shooting from the baby's mouth and guzzle it. You watch as your skin starts to change. A scream of pain builds inside of you as your skin shrivels and shrinks you to the ground. You look up one last time at the fountain of the baby, but what you didn't see was the mother that was holding him was crying because he was born with horns and hooves.