Quotation: from Luminous Debris

A saint’s bones, for instance, in Medieval Latin, were “translated” (translatio) into the bejewelled receptacle of their reliquary. As for ourselves, aren’t we continually translating our own thoughts, our own fears and desires: transferring them from one point, one level of apprehension, to another? Call it music, poetry, prayer.

Gustaf Sobin, Luminous Debris: Reflecting on Vestige in Provence and Languedoc (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 62.

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