You don’t expect that in such friendly community. The artisan comes to work early each morning, bringing along a mind filled with the creative images that will instruct the work of the day. He is already at work in his mind, even while away from the bench; perhaps even while sleeping.
Those hours spent at the workbench turn into tangible manifestation as his expert hands shape the materials into new expression. What was grabbed from the bench during the dark hours of the night is a bit, no, a lot of this precious dimension of time when creativity becomes form. The burglar may very well return what he took (now that would be nice), but the moments are gone forever. A chunk of creative energy, snatched.
Jewelry making is like playing an intricate piece of music. It begins with the thought of a melody. Notes converge, as if responding to the perfect pitch of tuning forks calling them to task. They merge like mercury beads in a loving embrace. And then, all begins to sway perfectly, a perfect amalgam of shape, color and character until, with one final adjustment, the piece is done. The crescendo. This is what it is to create something from nothing. It is real. Snatched jewelry from a little shop in a little town in Vermont is much like a stolen work of art from the Louvre. It is a piece of human ingenuity and a proof of our ability to create beauty out of thin air that was snatched.
Burglary is nothing personal, of course. Perhaps if it were the burglar would have thought twice before hitting this particular establishment. If he knew Silvio personally, how could he possibly take anything from him? That is unthinkable. And then there is the livelihood of the artisan, the shopkeeper, the father and husband. How can a fellow human disregard this? Of course, evidence that this is possible abounds. It remains puzzling nonetheless.
Perhaps the burglar is the one who has lost the most in the end. Surely such an act, any act of violation for that matter, is not possible when the heart is softened by the knowledge of beauty. Perhaps the burglar is looking for beauty in his own life and is simply mistaken about how to find it. Is the hand reaching to nab something it does not own actually looking for something deeper to call its own?
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