It says, “I have a long list of books I want to read. I will probably never get to the end of their leads. I usually read several books at the same time, and since I still maintain my monastic habit line, there’s nothing better to do at night, so I read them, reclined.”
So, I send a reply, of my fate, “I too have been reading all the books, to date, given to me to copy and illuminate. Some are from the forbidden section of the library, and I’m not supposed to read them, entirely, but I do. I am learning a lot, through my peepers; much is being withheld by our keepers.”
Her next note reads simply: “Time flies like a bird.”
“True,” I write, “so very right; the wings of time are black and white, for one is the day and one is the night. This was a philosophy from a book of quatrains that I am presently illuminating, with golden rain.” Such, we began getting to know each others looks, through the notes that we conceal in the books.
She now writes: “I was delirious to hear of what you thunk; I thought my note might go to a wrong monk, but I hoped that it would be sent to you. I can’t believe that it worked out that way, too!”
And so I reply, as if under a star, “I was thinking about you last night, afar, and about how wonderful your personal notes are. It really made me feel so good to hear from you. Life is much more enjoyable now. Thank you, too.”
“I am really happy that you are enjoying life. We live only once, so I believe in getting the best out of life.”
“I was as delirious as you were on high when I received your reply. It gave me energy! I was walking on air for the rest of the day, and I still am! You made my day!”