You had heard she was blind. She looks directly at you. You have come to her with the prize in your hands. You do not know how much of it is rightly yours. You have passed along the way, those with so much more and so very much less than you have. You who have eaten today, and will eat again tomorrow. But still, there are hungers inside you that you cannot wish away. As she lifts the prize from your hands, for a moment you feel lighter. And before she tells you what portion of the whole is rightly yours, she tells you this — that fair means more than one thing. And that one of the things it means is beautiful. You see the bargain she has made in return for the terribly duty of giving each what they deserve.