Fertile mysteries

Around two o’clock in the night three ancient Greek scholars were leaving a symposium on love. The director was mostly carrying the main speaker and his young protégé, keeping the former upright and the other out of trouble. They had fallen to discussing the Eleusinian mysteries, and the youth now flicked his blond curls in the dying moonlight, declaiming:
— Perhaps the whole mystery of Demeter’s cult is that there is a secret to her tale, though every initiate is left in the dark as to what it is!
The old man snorted:
— ‘want to know an ugly secret, my boy?
— Maybe the fasting, the potion, the raised stalk of grain only mean you must forever dig deeper…
— Digging deeper, eh?
The director broke into a fit of laughter:
— You’ll have to find some old initiates and ask them!
— But that’s the point: there is no one who could tell me! It’s the one secret i can only discover absolutely on my own!
— Anyway, we seem to have arrived, muttered the ancient wise-crack, and I don’t fancy you penetrating any mysteries on your own just now.

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