The Other carries a magic stone and how they use it determines whether they are stupid or wise.

When they distrust memory they become wistful doom purveyors. They ridicule the general conditions of things and are at war with their families. When children appear they are uneasy as though the child inspires thoughts of the burden of the magic stone and not its potential. From the top of their heads come the flow of aggravating desires without cease as though to wound the world; as though to throw a dust mote against its steel thighs. They accept experience as the only criteria for things and scoff at the sacred trusts of life. The magic stone is the last object put on their graves and laughs deep into the bowels of the earth. Ah! The Other can liberate when it turns the stone slowly so that we catch our passing face, a tragic face, in its polish.

Back to Home