D U N E
- ☾ -
T
his place is his home.It might look like chaos, like piles of junk, but everything has its exact place. And it all has a life to it that he tends to as if a garden. The young stallion is in fact so in tune with his shop, when he’s here it feels like an extension of himself. When the young patron picks something up it feels like a feathered touch on his shoulder. When she flips the pages of a book, he feels a strange breeze flutter across his skin.
But he’s too focused on his task, or maybe too used to the nonsensical nature of dreams, to be distracted by the ticklish sensations as a stranger gently walks through his world… until her quiet attention rests on him like a butterfly in the sun, and he realizes suddenly he’s being watched. He looks up at her, and she startles in a way that is, paradoxically, very calm and careful. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes soften with amusement.
He’s about to return to his work with a dismissive “let me know if you have any questions” when she asks him what he’s working on. There follows a surprised pause. He didn’t often get questions- perhaps because most strangers felt uncomfortable breaking the intense focus so clearly knit across his brow. He didn’t mind the question, not at all, but it was unexpected and he’s taken aback.
“Um, it’s a water clock.” There is another long pause. When he realizes her curiosity is genuine, he continues. “This one is very old.” They were not particularly difficult to make, the value of this one is it’s historical value. He had found it in the catacombs, when looking for rare scrolls for an employer. He kept it for himself without guilt, as he had been employed to find paper, not artifacts.
He speaks quietly, as though they are in a church. Some days, speaking still feels strange- he had gone so long without. Anyway, it was only polite when in the company of a sleeping cat. “One bowl is filled with water. There are levels marked on it, and as it drains into the other bowl you can read the passage of time.” Simple but effective; easier to craft than an hourglass, but, as with most things, difficult to create with precision. Sun dials were even simpler to make, and were thus far more widespread than the water clock. But Dune thought there was something attractive about how the water clock utilized the physical measurement of time. It spoke to the deep and unknowable essence of things, and the relationship between them all. He was not by nature philosophical, but when deep in his work his mind inevitably wandered down paths such as these. It was one of the things that made tinkering so enjoyable.
Dune looks up from the table and its many broken pieces of pottery. He feels like he should be annoyed... If anyone else stood there like that while he was working, he would be annoyed. He can't figure out why he's not annoyed, and it's beginning to annoy him. "Can I help you find something?" Meanwhile, he's wondering: have I never had a pretty stranger in my shop before? He suddenly wishes he had cleaned up a little more this morning. At least he could have swept the floor or something.
And what on earth are dreams if not our only way of speaking?
