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A few weeks after Asher moves into her own apartment, her father the philosophist moves everything he owns into the attic. Well, not everything–the folding ladder wouldn’t support the fridge–but he gets the couch up there. He insulates between the beams and hacks new vents into the central air. He rolls up the carpet. He puts lawn furniture on the roof. Asher, visiting, manages to work the conversation around to this behavior, and her father smiles and says Asher, you don’t see? It’s only up here, only when your feet don’t touch dirt that you can wrestle with

angels.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006
A story yet Uncategorized
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