The red box had arrived yesterday from a remote location, beyond the sea of gray foams. It was so beautiful! Squared at its base and two thirds of the height. Elegant as well as pointless chic.
Extending the most of his fingers he had verified the measurements; as accurate as a quarter in length. It is wonderful, just wonderful!
In front, a couple of bronze crescents. A simple closure, distinguished in its brevity.
Slowly, almost mysteriously, he lifted the lid of the box. In bold letters and molded with sealing-wax was written:
"It is an impossibility for one who delights in company to obtain [even] temporary release. Having heard the voice of the sun's kinsman, one should wander solitary as a rhinoceros horn." Sutta-Nipata
A tiny space of light closed in his mind. There were other, perhaps other African horns, lonely and isolated.