posted on: Thursday December 3, 2015
by Konner Jebb ’16
Not every sin is deadly. In the center of the room, sunlight shot down from skylight windows illuminating an artificial tropical canopy that caged the physical embodiment of the slowest sin. Wiry body cradled inside a hammock, a paw armed with three curved, four-inch, yellowing claws extends towards a high branch at the rate of molasses. His beady eyes blink as he grabs the branch numerous slow seconds later, carefully wrapping his claws around faded bark, sending upward his second paw, carefully, carelessly, contently. His name droops in damnable depth for a creature who swings atop trees, floating above meaning.
Not-so-soon, he’s observing us upside down, stubby head cocked and staring, a kind smile on thin lips. The circular nose occupied the center of his face, sniffing the wet air for the one hibiscus leaf of the day; his chocolate energy bar, documentaries say. Though, energy is unnecessary when the realm of dreams is his true awakened self. The leaf is munched one chlorophyll per sunrise and we watch, almost listen for the little eyes to blink once more, to share mystical knowledge locked within. His sin isn’t in his silent vocabulary, as he is a follower of Buddha. “Smile, breathe, and go slowly.”