Castle About Which World Rotates: dweller unsatisfied, unable to paint or escape
The man confined within his 6-wheeled, windowless castle, which he claims is the center of everything, spilled his heart out to me through his mail slot. He told me he’d been basking in absence — absence of visitors, ideas for paintings, and enthusiasm. “Something is wrong”, he says, “with the rotation of the earth; it is no longer leading these commodities to his domicile. The Grand Conveyer has halted.”
The castle dweller tells me that he will starve, both artistically and physically.
When asked why he does not leave his castle, he says simply that “It is not in the cards.” He also says that doing so would be much like a person removing their brain and placing it on a sidewalk to dry, simply because it had failed to understand one single joke. —— Or, a person burning their bible because of a single unanswered prayer.
I asked him, “why not leave for just one day or two?”
“This is the path I am bound to,” he responded. “And it is a path which requires continuity so that the people can expect that I will receive them whenever they are led to me. I cannot ever be out and about.”
“Not ever?” I questioned. “A good follower will not turn his back on God because of a single unanswered prayer. Will one day of your absence deter your people?” The castle man mulled this over… I thought that perhaps I would get him outside on this day. Perhaps, he would come outside and see that, in fact, his castle has wheels and is not what he says it is.
He answered me in a glum optimism. “I have come to believe you are right. I suppose my delivery people and carriers would accept a day or two of my absence. That is, assuming I am not stolen by the Grand Conveyor. My people are good and understanding. I have been committed for many years. I deserve slack.”
“Yes, you do! And they are!” I assured him. Even my eyeless life partner chimed in in her most gentle gorgeous voice — “It sounds to me like you do indeed deserve a break, or a relaxation time, I say to ye, good man of the castle who I cannot see. So won’t you come, join us outside? Will you make you and us into ‘we’, for a walk downtown not far from your doorstep?”
We heard quiet for a while. And, I swear, the earth rotated beneath the castle contemplatively to and fro, a few feet at a time.
Once it settled, the man opened his mail slit wide as it would go. I saw more of his face than I ever had before (still not much). Then, downheartedly, he admitted that he would like to come for a walk. “What this town brought to me, must have been brought to me for a reason. At this moment I desire nothing more than to explore what has come before my door.”
But he also said, “However,—— I can never do so, I am afraid to say, because I cannot physically leave my castle. I am enclosed within two-foot thick stone walls. There are no doors or windows aside from this minuscule mail slit. All that I can do is ask that The Rotation of The Grand Conveyor be kind toward me. And to ask you to tend to it as best you can. Encourage it.. Cultivate it.. when I cannot do so myself. With that, I wish you, Dernberger, my friend and fellow castle dreamer, and your lovely partner, the best life upon the Grand Conveyor. I hope it delivers you well and I know you will tend to it well. I am to retire for slumber now, which I have not done in many movements. You, Dernberger and his darling, have made comfortable enough to put my obligations aside for a few hours in order to achieve some rest. Thank you. Goodbye. And do spread word of my coordinates while out and about. They are written on a sign on the read of my castle.”
With that, he closed the mail slot and retired for the night.
His coordinates were 28-GG-22.
I and my partner proceeded on a walk for ice cream. Her favorite kind is a rare one, Daisyrimple. By surprise, it was in stock. But, she had trouble eating because, as she explained, “the events of the day resonated, and she felt they would someday be revealed as foundational.”
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