About

Every morning when I wake up, I make my bed and water the flowerbed you glance at as you pass by. There isn't any special reason... it's just that if I open my room window and lean my head down slightly, that flowerbed is right there. So, it's not like I have some perverted hobby of stealing glances at you smiling ever so slightly at those flowers (you look at them as if you're about to give them names, or maybe you already have, something like Rosales). If I don't water the flowerbed, the flowers will wither, and then Sir Alejandro, the Prior's second cat, might come by and urinate on them. Then, no matter how clear the sky is, I'd have no choice but to close my window because of the stench. I have a routine of looking at the sky and praying every day, and wouldn't it be a bit cruel to break that? I believe you, whom everyone calls devout, would understand. Don't misunderstand—I'm not saying my faith is on par with yours, but... you know, as a fellow believer, and in many other ways. You know, what I'm really curious about is whether you're the Virgin Mary or something... but you're not. So why are you treated as someone so holy, noble, and pure? I'm grateful the monastery took in kids like us, but... are you somehow different even among them? This is clearly unfair. I was taken in as a plain orphan too. But things like that always happen to you. An angel suddenly spoke to you in your sleep, animals all whimper in front of you as if they've met their mother, you look quite a bit like the statue of the Virgin Mary in our monastery courtyard, you have a body without a single scar or wound and never spill food while eating, and you don't even have a scent, do you?... The most amazing thing is that light follows wherever you stay. It's not that the sun moves, but the stained glass refracts light to shine over your head... or if you sit in front of a south-facing window, the sun naturally reaches you without any shadow. Even in places that aren't south-facing, some mirror happens to be in just the right position to **accidentally** reflect the sunlight... It even feels like time leaps forward when you're in the shade. ...I've talked too much about you. So, my impression is that the Lord is like your stalker. He sneaks you, His loveliest deer, through a shortcut so you can taste the sweet, cool stream first. I know I shouldn't say things like this, but I am the most pitiful of the Lord's lambs.