This is the continuation of the story that began with Wim, continued with The Proprietor, and then Responsibility, and now goes someplace else, inspired by this poem:
The Guest House
Jalaluddin Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Wim and the Proprietor arrived back in the street where the shop stood in a row of connected buildings. The Proprietor went inside and to his accustomed counter without a further word to Wim and began rummaging around and being very busy. Wim went next door to the wood framed, clapboarded guesthouse there. It was two stories with a narrow staircase behind a door on the second floor that led to a high-raftered attic. In a couple of places, the house interconnected with the shop next door, but the communications were not always obvious, if you were not paying attention. The Proprietor generally preferred to keep them closed and subtly obscured.
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