Essence

In the city center, a temple, an old church and a mosque stand with less than two miles between them. There, you often see a young boy with a folding table, selling trinkets of various kinds. He couldn’t be older than fifteen, but has the air of a seasoned salesman, imploring you to buy without coercion. When the authorities arrive, he packs up his large bag and disappears, only to materialise nearby a few hours later. You observe him and sense that perhaps he has grasped the essence of God better than any of the tourists, devotees or holy men.