To The Heart
by Ori Fienberg
There is a faraway island, famed for its brightly colored and surprisingly textured mosaics, in which the people have eyes, not on their heads, but on the bottom of their feet. Naturally, it is important for all business to be conducted reclining.
Lest dust should get in their eyes, they must close them, and so they travel in muffled darkness. Yet these people are known as dedicated explorers. They have mapped miles of the sea floor, and on land they cover as much distance in their minds as underfoot– perhaps more. When at last they reach their destination and raise their feet to the air it is as if they have just woken from a dream of great industry.
In marriage ceremonies the bride and groom sit, cross-legged, eyes turned inward, closed. As the couple recites the vows their legs unfold: soon their soles rest lightly against each other’s. Tentatively at first, and then with full confidence, they open their eyes.
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