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“There is no arguing with inevitability, but one does not have to pay it heed.”
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“The thing about Triskadeka Fair,” Apophax replied, between bites of jam-sandwich shortbread, “is… or rather, isn’t… the thing, I mean… Well, talking about Triskadeka Fair is like the blind men and the elephant. You know the one?”
She, in fact, did. It was an old story.
“Several blind men found an elephant,” she recited. “One felt her trunk and said she was a snake. Another felt her leg and said she was a tree, a third felt her tusk and said she was a rock and so on. They argued about what she was and—”
“—and the elephant trampled them all to death. Because what self-respecting pachyderm is going to stand for being groped by a bunch of bickering blind men?”
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She, in fact, did. It was an old story.
“Several blind men found an elephant,” she recited. “One felt her trunk and said she was a snake. Another felt her leg and said she was a tree, a third felt her tusk and said she was a rock and so on. They argued about what she was and—”
“—and the elephant trampled them all to death. Because what self-respecting pachyderm is going to stand for being groped by a bunch of bickering blind men?”
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“There are words for things that are not here; the sun, the moon, the stars, the wind, the sea— so many words scattered around this city hacked in stone and scrawled on skin and traced on frail leaves.”
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