As I was reading this, I couldn't help but remember standing in a low basement in a building in Vermont and watching as a man took a rounded globe of molten glass and with nothing more than a stark shaft of metal, hot flame, cool water, and the vital gift of his own breath, created a single, perfect goblet; form out of nothingness, grace out of sand and water and air.
You have done the same thing in this story, only you have filled this goblet with the most delicate, slightly bittersweet wine. It is quite perfect. Quite, quite perfect.
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Date: 2009-05-18 05:06 pm (UTC)You have done the same thing in this story, only you have filled this goblet with the most delicate, slightly bittersweet wine. It is quite perfect. Quite, quite perfect.
I stand rather in awe.