The sun would not set. Zorin could see that now. The sun would never set. Not entirely. The night would just have to take its chances. "Zorin," Zorin thought... "What is Zorin? A name. But is that name me? I am Zorin. But I am not my name. But my name is Zorin. But if I am not my name, how, then, can I be Zorin? The Buklup teaches us, moving always one dimension higher, that the map is indeed the territory. But does the Buklup not also say that to colour that map in, one should not use anything one hopes to sign one's name with? No names then..." thought Zorin, "Not this nearly-night..."
Relaxing, Zorin's back finally enjoyed the coolness of the sort-of-beach, and the skylight in his/her head opened with a gentle "ftung" to reveal... a single rose... or something. Maybe wires, I could not really tell from where I was. And a foot? Perhaps I'm not the best person to be telling this actually. If I'm honest, you know I'm not even sure it was Zorin.
No comments:
Post a Comment