“Two and two is four. Four and two is six. Six and two is eight. Plus eight is 16. Plus eight is 24. Plus eight is 32… Holy souls, we kneel before you. All right. Put away your things. Quiet! Quiet! Or else Don José will get angry. Good morning, Don José. Poor Don José! Who left him like that? You did, teacher. Let’s see, Paulita. What is Don José missing? His heart. Good. Put it on him. Mari Carmen, what’s the heart for? For breathing. All you smarty-pants laughing so hard, what do we breathe with? The lungs. Show them to us. Put his lungs on. Put them on him. Very good. What is the stomach for? To put food in. Put it on him. Very good. Sit down. Now pay attention. Don José can walk. He can breathe. He can eat. But… there’s still something very, very important that’s missing. His bones. His ears. Ana. You’re very quiet. What is Don José still missing? His eyes. Quiet, Isabel. Answer when I ask you. His eyes. Very good. Come and put them on him. Now Don José can see.”
“Someone to whom I recently showed my glass beehive, with its movement like the main gear of a clock– Someone who saw the constant agitation of the honeycomb, the mysterious, maddened commotion of the nurse bees over the nests, the teeming bridges and stairways of wax, the invading spirals of the queen, the endlessly varied and repetitive labors of the swarm, the relentless yet ineffectual toil, the fevered comings and goings, the call to sleep always ignored, undermining the next day’s work, the final repose of death, far from a place that tolerates neither sickness nor tombs– Someone who observed these things, after the initial astonishment had passed, quickly looked away, with an expression of indescribable sadness and horror.”
Snorky’s voice!?