Idolator

I did not know that you were an idolator, said Pliny the Elder after reading my blog yesterday.

I'm not. I'm more someone who doesn't know where to put her bits of jewellery, I said. The Buddha used to belong to my daughter. It always seemed alright to me to drape him with jewels and artificial flowers. He never complained before.

Does he often talk to you? asked Pliny, looking interested.

No, of course not. He usually sits there dreaming away about whatever Buddhas dream of, I said. Once I took him outside, sat him under a tree and took his photograph . I'd stood a little carved wooden sailor in the window behind the tree and I called the photo Buddha dreams of a fisherman dreaming of the Buddha. I sent it to my daughter in London.

And what did she think of that ?

I don't remember. I often wonder what the Buddha thought of that.