Disbelief

"There are many, you know, who do not believe in a place called Earth. The so-called Flat World." He gestured broadly with his hands towards the whole dry valley and the distant surrounding hills.

"What?"

"So few have been here from there that it really is no wonder. I think I too should struggle to believe, were I in their shoes (not that they have shoes, but you catch my meaning)."

I stared at him blankly, entirely unsure what shoeless race he was going on about, and quite sure that I did not, in fact, catch his meaning.

"It is much less surprising for them to disbelieve in this world than for you to disbelieve in theirs. To them this whole universe is much like what you call a map. Flat, colorful, filled with detail, but otherwise largely uninteresting. It can tell you what things are like, what things have happened, but is not itself the living place. It must seem to them so impossibly boring." He chuckled gently, then added: "You can imagine their bewilderment at the interest He takes in it!"

"Who, sir?"

"Ah, never mind that, I simply mean to state that I find it very interesting. They have such an excuse, but what of you? Surely sometimes you must look up, or out, or within, and think about the others. You must wonder about life and feel so very small. Like worms, wriggling along through smooth channels of earth, while the flame of eternity burns in your hearts..."

He stared off into the distance and his voice trailed off. I watched him, thinking I had never once felt that way in the slightest, but I held my tongue. We went on in silence.