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House of the Courtesans
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So far today, July 26 , 2008
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Since this journal started on September 2 , 2007 :
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If you ask me why I am a hetaira, that is how I live. You may recognize my name. For many years, I lived beside the noble Pericles, and bore his children. Now that he is gone, I and several girls live in this modest oikos on the Street of the Courtesans. I must eat. Are you answered?

Yet there is more. In Hellas, women are kept ignorant and kept inside. To be respectable, as Pericles says, is to never be spoken of. A woman who seeks education, a life in the arts, a life outside of the domination of her father or brother, has few options. And men always seek women, but some men seek educated women, who can speak with them, play to them, comfort them.

I live in a world where women are not admired. As my sister once wrote,

""But now outside my father's house, I am nothing. Yes, I have often looked on women's nature in this regard, that we are nothing. When we reach puberty and can understand, we are thrust and sold away from our ancestral gods and from our parents. Some go to strange men's homes, others to joyless houses, some to hostile. And all this once the first night has yoked us to our husband. We are forced to praise and say that all is well."

Therefore, I have made my own life.

You are welcome. Here, forget your sorrows.

SOURCES: The Annals of Gor

The Encyclopaedia Romana/Hetaira



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