Jachin-Boaz traded in maps. He bought and sold maps, and some, of certain kinds for special uses, he made or had others make for him. That had been his father’s trade, and the walls of the shop that had been his father’s were hung with glazed blue oceans, green swamps and grasslands, brown and orange mountains delicately shaded. Maps of towns and plains he sold, and other maps made to order. He would sell a young man a map that showed where a particular girl might be found at difference hours of the day. He sold husband maps and wife maps. He sold maps to poets that showed where thoughts of power and clarity had come to other poets. He sold well-digging maps. He sold vision-and-miracle maps to holy men, sickness and accident maps to physicians, money-and-jewel maps to thieves, and thief maps to the police.
And then:
- The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz ‘Show me a crux and I’ll show you the cracks,’ said the tightly furled man. ‘You’re not talking to squares...
- On Exactitude In Science In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such Perfection that the map of a single Province occupied the entirety...
- Blood not paint They held up a stone. I said, ‘Stone.’ Smiling they said, ‘Stone.’ They showed me a tree. I said, ‘Tree.’...
- A Perfect Day for Bananafish the young man put on his robe, closed the lapels tight, and jammed his towel into his pocket. he picked...
- The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle I clicked the gate shut and slipped down the alley. Through one fence after another, I caught glimpses of people...
- La Bonne Chanson The morning sun serenely warms and gilds The rye and corn still damp in dewy fields, The sky has kept...
