A Hand Full of Stars

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January 12 — One day my old friend, so dear to me that I call him “Uncle” Salim, said to me: “What a pity I can’t write. I have experienced so much that was important. Today I no longer know what has kept me for years from sleeping at night.”

“But you know quite a lot, Uncle,” I comforted him.

“No, my friend,” he said. “Of the landscape, nothing will remain but the mountains, and later only their peaks will be visible, and all of it will sink into the mist. If I had learned to write, I would have the power to preserve the mountains, fields, and valleys, and every single thorn on the stem of a rose. What wonderful people the Chinese are!”

I was surprised Uncle Salim had suddenly landed among the Chinese. When I asked him about it, he explained: “By inventing paper, the Chinese made it possible for the art of reading and writing to be accessible to everyone. From the temples of scholars and the palaces of kings the Chinese brought writing to the streets. They are marvelous.”

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