As she talked, I tried to take in her words, but it was difficult. The ground had risen up to meet my feet. I was lighting on some surface that I could not see. I didn’t want to be blind. That would never do, but I also couldn’t see how to look outside of myself.
You do have excavators, I said.
Well, she said with an air of gentle dismissal, there are some exceptions.
The people of Slothin, I said, they seem to love you.
She hesitated. You cannot love a dead woman, she said.
I think you can.
You can extoll, venerate, admire, and appreciate. All that, you can do. Anyone can do. Invest the memory with respect and gratitude. I will agree with all of that. But love? It’s difficult. Love involves seeking the well-being of another. A dead person cannot have well-being.
She was a philosoph
