Malte

"There is an hour to go until sundown, at which time we will tie up at the quayside from where our journey began. Perhaps it will begin all over again tomorrow, perhaps none of it ever happened. What, then, is time? And who are we, returning in an altered light? Have we any way of knowing, when the bells ring for sunset and we have reached a point in the stream that we have passed before?
I just ask, Malte. You do not need to answer.



"He wound up with his own mercantile house in the city, ships in the harbor that sailed far and wide and came home from foreign parts with holds full of fan coral, narwhal tusks, and turtle shells, all of which were fashioned in his workshops into true works of art. While transforming its fruit, he still stayed true to the ocean from which his wealth derived. From walrus tusks he created creatures with long heads and slanting eyes. He claimed that the creatures knocked on the ivory from within; he was merely the man who applied the knife to let them out. It was when he acquired the nickname the Amber King that he began to expand the summerhouse into a castle.



"So it is with us. We keep our miracles close to our chest. We cannot interfere in the course of events, anyway. To everything there is a season. The living have nothing but that, and soon the story will be played out.


FROM
Prince
by Ib Michael