The Courtyard

Set down your book! And come stand at the center!

We are on a grassy stage, and the actors and audience have swapped. The show encircles us. Windows slide open, and voices spill out from the rectangular frames; they paint the open air green, and gold, and cinnabar, and light blue; they weave together, just above our heads, like sinuous threads, giving texture to the silence; the characters, they are notes; and the plots, they are but the melodies of life. Listen!

And you will find that you are not alone!

In the evenings, the shades come down. Out pop the silhouettes! Like a universal puppet show, the figures move. Lethargic, or lively. Dissonant, or harmonious. Falling, or rising. Shrinking, or expanding. And there, at the top, one window has no shadows. It is full of light! That must be our place!

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