looking for inspiration today, i guess.
a passage from one of my favorite books: elizabeth knox's the vintner's luck. the discussion is between a wine maker and xas, his angel. it concerns a letter.
"can i read it?" xas asked.
"no. it's between me and apharah."
"i'm between you and her."
sobran dissembled, said he didn't have the letter any more. he was destroyed, felt thinner by inches, but had one defensive reflex left to him: outright lying.
"did you burn it?"
sobran opened his eyes. there was something odd in xas's tone - as though burning a letter came close to placing it in his hands.
"and if i did she and i alone would know what it said. and her russian scribe, i suppose, the invalid kumiliev." it pleased sobran to prove he'd had a letter, and insights into apharah's household.
"if you destroyed it, it would go to heaven."
"so heaven is full of laundry lists and lewd books? the sorts of things people burn."
"destroyed originals go to heaven. you can find a copy of anything copied in hell. heaven is full of the membranes of lost manuscripts. they are like the skin a snake casts when it grows, transparent, in the shape of a snake and printed with airy scales. but these are indestructible, and lovely, like a gold leaf. there are laundry lists, yes, and love notes, totes, tavern bills, burnt verses ..."
what a beautiful, hopeful, inspired concept. when i go to heaven i know what i'll be doing.
"can i read it?" xas asked.
"no. it's between me and apharah."
"i'm between you and her."
sobran dissembled, said he didn't have the letter any more. he was destroyed, felt thinner by inches, but had one defensive reflex left to him: outright lying.
"did you burn it?"
sobran opened his eyes. there was something odd in xas's tone - as though burning a letter came close to placing it in his hands.
"and if i did she and i alone would know what it said. and her russian scribe, i suppose, the invalid kumiliev." it pleased sobran to prove he'd had a letter, and insights into apharah's household.
"if you destroyed it, it would go to heaven."
"so heaven is full of laundry lists and lewd books? the sorts of things people burn."
"destroyed originals go to heaven. you can find a copy of anything copied in hell. heaven is full of the membranes of lost manuscripts. they are like the skin a snake casts when it grows, transparent, in the shape of a snake and printed with airy scales. but these are indestructible, and lovely, like a gold leaf. there are laundry lists, yes, and love notes, totes, tavern bills, burnt verses ..."
what a beautiful, hopeful, inspired concept. when i go to heaven i know what i'll be doing.