03.04.06
i've got to tell you something
There are the bells that ring unexpectedly sometimes on Sunday afternoons when I am in my room and mass has finished and the sun is shining, ever so gently on my chest and on my bare feet as I write for a while. The men go by below on the green field with their large bags. Porters trek across the manmade landscape -dark dots, heads hanging down in the brightness - and through the shade of the trees, I can see the towers
Somewhere else, there was a tower of knowledge. A young couple helped us find it - took our packs from us - they walked us all the way there. There were children outside, running around chasing each other and playing in the heat.
It took us forever to figure out how to get inside. The walls loomed higher and higher with their rococo touches and as we climbed, our necks trained from the effort of looking at all the grey stone towering above us.
It was the first of its kind. You could see it from anywhere, they said. And it was true.
I am hoping the bells will ring again tomorrow. I don�t expect that this is any tower of knowledge with its hushed halls, but still the nervous bell ringer must know that the sound shakes the town at each of his touches. It runs over hills and through valleys.
For him the seminary students gather on the lawn, tall and lanky, books in hand.
They smile up at him through fanned fingers, nodding.
Yes, they say, that�s good enough for now.
shi-ou-sama at
