ANALOGY OF THE UNTOUCHED BOOK
He became very surprised when he received that package sent by an old colleague who now lived in London. It was wrapped in a brown paper, addressed to his person, and had a stamp dated a from few weeks ago, being delivered by ship. He didn't have any news from this old colleague for a few months now, since he found out, thanks to a common friend, that this colleague had contracted an unknown form of tuberculosis in one of his trips to Asia. He remembered those news and slowly moved the package away from his own face. With the tips of his fingers he unfolded the brown paper and found out that inside the package there was a book, probably a gift. There were no notes, not a single explanation to the reason for such gift. The book had a dark, red leather cover, and it wasn't possible to see its title or author. He considered opening the book and reading its contents, but reminded himself from his colleague's disease. What if that disease was highly contagious and could have been carried through the pages of that book? Maybe his colleague had read the book several times, and now had decided to get rid of it, delivering it as a gift to his old profession colleague, himself? What if he had breathed over the pages of that given volume, or coughed over it, impregnating it with that mysterious and lethal desease? Decided on what to do, got the book away from himself, letting it rest over a wooden table at the studio.
During that night, under the candle light that burned on the silver candelabrum, he merely watched that mysterious book supposedly impregnated, that rested over that same wooden table at the corner of his studio. Sometimes a servant would go down to where his master was and ask him if he needed anything, to which he only nodded his head saying "no", indicating that he was comfortable in his nightly solitude. He would then have his attention back to the book, which seemed to be watching him back like an owl. The moving flames on the candles created a small trembling movement to the book's shadow, making it even more isolated and mysterious.
Days passed and the book remained untouched. It now rested over an empty bookshelf in the library. He took the care of removing all the books that were previously occupying the bookshelf, letting them piled up in some other place, so that the bookshelf would be of exclusive use of the given book. He instructed all the servants, from the cookers to the coachman, telling them to never open the book and never let it be close to themselves. And there was the book, in the center of that huge empty bookshelf. The red volume was kept laying down on it's side, in a position no book ever would have in a bookshelf, showing itself in a lonely way to whoever entered the library and saw that only empty bookshelf in a room full of filled bookshelves. And in such isolation the book was kept over the years, almost fogotten.
He got the news, this time over the monthly newspaper, that the old profession colleague had finally died of the feared lung disease, and that his funeral was a huge happening in London, because of the significance of his works and merits. As he read about his old coallegue's death, he reminded himself of the abandoned book. He went to the room where it was and saw that it remained there, resting, unmoved, untouched. He considered opening it for a moment so he could find out what were the contents of that book once and for all. After all, if there was any harmful effect contaminated between the pages of that book, it was long gone, or it would have contaminated everyone, and there was no one sick around there. But he decided not to do it. Such a long time without opening it, why would he do such thing now? It didn't matter anymore, since the late coallegue had perished, he could not ask him to see if he had received the gift and enjoyed it. And abandoned the book continued, imaculated, never opened.
But in his own death bed, several years later, he asked one of his servants to fetch that book and delivered into his hands, so that he could finnaly open it and find out its contents. Now that he was about to die, it didn't matter anymore on what such act could cause.