She’s got the Middle-Eastern eyes…
“Eyes, you know, are the portals to the soul.”
He sips his coffee, eyes closed and head knocked back. The ceramic mug clinks as he returns it to the saucer.
“I thought that was ‘windows’.”
He shrugs, “It make a difference?”
“Well, portals are for travel. A passage, a division, that separates within from without, but allows entry and exit. Transfer. Windows are for viewing, more passive. There’s another thing about windows, though.
“They’re only meant for looking out. You make a window to let you see the outside from within, allow light from the world to penetrate your sanctum. Sure, people can look in through them, but that’s a breach of protocol, and contrary to their purpose. This means one of two things.
“Possibility one, and the one to which most people cleave, if subconsciously: souls are ‘inside’ because they’re within the body. The eyes are windows through which they perceive the world. The light of reality floods in through them and informs them, helps them mature. And, if need be, we can look into them and see what lies beneath a person’s ‘shell’, his apparent exterior. But that’s strange, no? Odd that we’d hold what is normally such a grievous invasion of privacy to be so natural, normal and even necessary.”
He raises an eyebrow, interest piqued, “And the alternative?”
“Why, the inverse, of course! The souls are what are free and clear and the eyes are windows through which we can see past this shadow world in which we live and garner a glimpse of their brilliance, their light, and we are what is changed as a result, by exposure to the true ‘outside’.”
A moment of silence. He drops another cube of sugar into his coffee and stirs, staccato tick of spoon on mug breaking down to a regular rhythm as the cube dissolves. Strong aroma of arabica stinging the nostrils, barely audible slurp as the rim meets his lips. The staff continue their dance and the fabric of the booth continues to chaff.
“That has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Sol.”