About the Night

by Anat Talshir

that every bodily pain has its source in the soul, every pain is an expression of distress.

No specialist in the world will be able to explain or make sense of this pain, which is because my body is here but my soul is there.”

Although the two were children of the same land and shared its earth, each possessed a different story about the place.

The world was no longer the way it was before this connection came into existence.

“To fall in love with you,” Elias said, “is to feel simplicity, something very basic and strong. To eat with you, to watch you brush your hair, to feel whole just because you exist, just because you are as you are. Exactly as you are.”

The miracle that people around the world chase after had occurred between them: the realization that they were two people perfectly suited to each other. It was a knot that came to be naturally, an interweaving of loops that had joined them without effort, an embroidery of love that was theirs alone and in which were mixed the depths of soul and the heights of bodily pleasure, creating a perfect garment that was as light as silk and strong as canvas.

Elias showed her that in the withered bodies of the aged, there was a whole world, the memory of love and accrued wisdom and acceptance of things to come.

“When you’re old,” he said sagely, “you don’t stop laughing, but when you stop laughing, you grow old.

When both partners give, there is no limit. It is a religious experience, an uplifting of the soul.

“Troubles come uninvited,” the woman said, “but we have to bring happiness ourselves.”

Elias said, “The difficult can only be tended to with softness.”