"You're welcome, you can read the books here at will, but they are a little lighter, and some of them are not younger than me."
The old grey-haired priest opened the window for the two visitors, and outside light entered the only locked room in the chapel in a long time, illuminating the outline covered with cloth.
The wooden floor creaked under your feet, and a little old grain bran was scattered in the gaps.
"Sorry, the gray is a bit big, it hasn't been opened for a long time." The priest let out a series of coughs, uncovering half of the cloth, revealing several layers of bookshelf filled with rolls and small bags of gravel lime.
"From then on, it's hard for young monks to stay. When there is not enough manpower, these will become a big problem. After all, many people don't understand the value of knowledge, but few people don't know the price of books."
He wiped dust on the surface of the book with a corner of the fabric. The book collection was obviously aging, but the situation was OK. The dry and cracked leather cover had hand-painted holy icons and logos, mostly used stitching instead of glue, and some were also covered with decorative panels, which were suitable for long-term storage.
For a village chapel where only one old priest kept running, this collection was really too big and even maintenance was a problem.
"You see, I'll go to the backyard to pick some peas first, and let you taste my craft for dinner."
“Thank you for your generosity.”
Dominic thanked this respected senior, covered his nose and slowly lifted the remaining half of the cloth, revealing the entire picture of the bookshelf.
Things went smoother than expected. The two of them just chose the village church that was recently convenient to transport, but unexpectedly encountered such a rich collection.
Even as a village near the monastery and the outside world's transportation line, the prosperity period did not look like it should have left so many paper products. For small rural churches, there are only one sacred book.
If they weren't for their very good luck, it was because the local diocese was so in this way and they had a special preference for this, so they would spend a lot of money and energy on collecting books and limited missionary effects.
Of course, due to the funding restrictions, most of them are not purchased here, and the handwritten ones account for the majority, so the shape looks quite unified.
Without Dominic's greeting, Field actively rushed into the old paper pile and started rummaging.
Regarding the same sacred scriptures and prayer books, the two of them browsed roughly and focused on the text content of the monk's amateur narrative.
Surprisingly, there are still a lot of such content. Heavenly Father is helping them find supporting materials for the report. After just screening the first floor of the bookshelf, they found several books that may meet the requirements.
Apart from the two logical philosophy and literature related books, the rest are somewhat related to the monk's local life experience.
Some of them cannot even be considered books, just personal notes, and write some experiences and memos in missionary and personal life.
There are limited records about astronomical phenomena, and most of them are related to agricultural activities, so few people specifically describe thunderstorms.
But after a closer look, I found some other resonant content, such as noting that there were more than two of them in the local special basket weaving technique.
There are some records of this in the booklets of different handwritings, mentioning these unique creations and their widespread existence.
Not only Field received the gift after helping, sometimes with a top braided hat, and sometimes with a basket full of wild fruits. Some people have also speculated about the specific origin of the pattern woven into spirals in local customs.
"That is to say, it's not just Puliar who has such...this kind of thing?"
"Indeed, it's quite unified." Field habitually wanted to lick his fingertips to make it easier to turn the page. Considering the age of the document in his hand, he restrained the conditioned reflex and used his nails to carefully pick up the next page.
The original owner of this booklet moved from another church far away and found that there were quite similar and complex woven handmade products in two semi-enclosed settlements that did not have connections.
As a person with strong curiosity and free time, he paid attention to this matter several times when he went out to pass nearby villages and towns.
The result is that most settlements in the parish, despite significant differences in accents and customs, have similar knitted products.
The materials and uses vary, but the appearance and technique details of the finished product are extremely unified, and it can even be said to be exactly the same.
He described it as the "Tao of Heaven".
Just like after the collapse of the tower that reached the sky, each fragmented settlement was divided into bricks and a half tiles. As it was broken for a long time, it gradually forgot its origin and meaning. However, the extremely gorgeous brick and stone was still firmly embedded on the foundation of the new building and could not be removed.
The record of this matter was then left unresolved because there is no information that can trace more than three generations of illiteracy in places where the illiteracy rate is infinitely close to 100%.
Some families even pursued the third generation but were not indigenous people. They were immigrants who moved with the lord. They didn't know where to learn it. They just felt it was indeed beautiful, so they kept it as a craft and some kind of protection symbol.
Personal abilities limit the use of curiosity, and the narrator quickly gave up halfway, leaving only two monks who did not see the follow-up scratching their ears and heads.
Unfortunately, this is already the most complete record. Most monks were surrounded by mountains and ridges like local residents for most of their lives, and all their efforts were spent on the localization of doctrines.
Looking up the bookshelf, the books were much sparse, the materials were simple and cheap, obviously from an earlier era, when the church was still in this arduous stage, and there was not much spare time.
"I think this is very interesting and can be used as a backup report. After all, rare astronomical phenomena are rare, and local folk customs are everywhere. It is much easier to write something new."
Field stood on tiptoe to reach the top of the bookshelf, Dominic helped to hold the ladder with one hand and read the notes of the curious ancestors.
The dark and cold light rises and falls with the blown pages, and the simple patterns are quite vivid, giving the vortex dynamic feeling.
Attention is attracted to it, and the writer is imagining what kind of situation he is writing and how he thinks.
"Why use the 'Tower of Heaven'?" The debris-like inspiration fell. He subconsciously looked up and saw the dust of his companions moving the books, blown by the slight airflow of communication indoors and outdoors, rotating and floating.
“It’s really pretty.”
"I mean, does it look like a reference. The shapes of these hats, baskets and other things, the possibility of coincidence is slim, and it will only come from a larger, more unified..."
The words came to an abrupt end, and his thinking paused. He couldn't come up with anything to describe the concept in his mind. It was a kind of unity in large-scale time and space, which tangibly and invisibly enveloped the mountains.
Just imagination arises in an inexplicable panic, a trace of instinctive respect for grandeur.
That feeling came again, it swam across the tall bookshelf, leaving hallucinated ripples.
"Don't stand there, help me pick it up." Field bent down and handed a book that was about to fall apart.
Chapter completed!