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The little man collected discarded sunsets. He swept them up every evening when they were spent, and kept them in a big golden cage in the depths of the forest.
In his despair, he felt it was morality which had driven him apart from all human company.
The dummy sometimes became passionate on the subject, believing morality to be merely a failure in relationships.
‘Mm. Something certainly makes me sad. Something hard to define. I always considered it was just the passage of time, not my heart.’
‘Time doesn’t pass. That’s just a human myth. Time’s all round us, like some kind of jelly. It’s just human life that passes.’
Over the wide expanse of ocean, another sunset was gathering up its strength to happen, searching in its palette for a brighter gold.
‘Sad? Oh, sadness is just happiness in reverse. We humans have to put up with it. Just being human is an awful burden to bear.’
It occurred to him that perhaps all his life he had only been hearing echoes of himself, and that his morality, on which he had once prided himself, was merely a refusal to permit other people into his life.
My desire was no longer for her, only for our past, our mutual past, when our beds had been permanently dishevelled.
