“Is the mind up there in the brain?”
“Well––no, we can’t say that it is.”
“Where is it, then?”
“A––a––well, no place in particular––that is, it is right here all the time.”
“Well, then, when the mind wants to see the chair does it have to climb up into the brain and watch that little nerve wiggle?”
The man was at a loss for an answer. Carmen suddenly crumpled the sketch in her small hand and smiled up at him.
“Padre dear, I don’t believe our outside eyes see anything. We just think they do, don’t we?”
Josè looked out through the open door. Carmen’s weird heron was stalking in immense dignity past the house.
“I think Cantar-las-horas is getting ready to sing the Vespers, chiquita. And so Doña Maria probably needs you now. We will talk more about the eye to-morrow.”