The Golden Web - by Alex Ranieri

Mine is a talent by few possessed—or should I say, rather than a mere talent, a divine ability—for I possess the means, through my own labor, of transformation—indeed—it has been my own skill, my own diligence, all my own, which has enabled me to take the base metals of cloth, paltry threads, threads, which clothe even the least among you, and to transform these into the elements of a golden world: from thread have I fashioned whispering reeds on the banks of Diana’s pool—with thread have I wrinkled the robes of nymphs and goddesses—out of thread have I made up another sun, whose light, steadfast and infinite, shines on a far more glorious realm than this.

Have I done all this, and will I not boast?

Far and wide, you may imagine, are my services requested, and many are the men and women who would be my patrons. My fame is such that I need not, indeed cannot, take all comers. Not infrequently are noblemen turned from my door, in as summary a fashion as they might turn beggars from their feasts.

And will I spend my ink in documenting each of these interviews? No indeed; and yet, one instance leaves me troubled in my mind. I find I cannot sleep tonight, (truly, in these last weeks sleep has visited me but little,) without elucidating some particulars of this meeting, and the events following, in a medium over which I still possess control; for, to speak truth, I begin to fear the threads no longer recognize my hand as their mistress.