Piranesi

by Susanna Clarke

‘What do I remember?’ I asked, confused. ‘Yes.’ ‘As a question it lacks specificity,’ I said. ‘Nevertheless,’ he said. ‘Try to answer it.’ ‘Well,’ I said. ‘I suppose the answer is everything. I remember everything.’

I realised that the search for the Knowledge has encouraged us to think of the House as if it were a sort of riddle to be unravelled, a text to be interpreted, and that if ever we discover the Knowledge, then it will be as if the Value has been wrested from the House and all that remains will be mere scenery.

The House is valuable because it is the House.

Safe in his embrace, I wept for my lost Sanity.

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.