A net of stars (the jewels of Naz, part 3)

Now it is night again, so I will get on with what I’ve started:

In my college years, I read practically all of the time, you see, always except when I was sleeping (which wasn’t much) or when I was writing to you (which was more), but practically all of the rest of the time. All this reading had not yet brought me wisdom and had not yet brought me riches, but once, in the moldy dusty cellar of an old world library, it brought me the location of Bostanji’s ancient tower.

The wisdom and riches would come later, in good time, I thought.

Inshallah.

Hide them in the sky (the jewels of Naz, part 2)

Now it is night again and I will get on with what I’ve started:

Bostanji did not have a plan for what to do next, which might be the very best kind of plan, if you think about it. No one else can possibly know what one’s plan is if there’s not a plan to be known.

That’s what I say, and frequently.

Democracite and bobstones (the jewels of Naz, part 1)

I am asked where it was I got all of this sparkly jewelry and my answer is always the same.

Oh, not precisely the same, it is true. Not word-for-word sameness, for that would be unusual, suspect, and in fact a bit creepy. The story of my jewelry evolves with each telling, but the basic framework remains.

Before the story of my jewelry evolves again, I’m going to tell it to you: