(In the winter of 1968, I stood looking at the Daibutsu in Kamakura, Japan, then purchased in a nearby shop a similar chap in a walnut shell and sent him to Sri Lanka. -- Hum)
No plays provide No answer and play provides no lasting illusion; illumination whether from sunlight or snowlight will only serve those who open their eyes, think with their kidneys, and feel the substantiality of the ground under their butt, and not their but. Your eyes must have seen well of both strangeness and exquisiteness, for the Manjusri, perched in isolation atom the uppermost pinnacle of his enormous half-inch lotus blossom, reflects the illumination of Japan in the presumptive waters on which the lotus floats, plying equally substance and illusion: ivory comes from India, the Buddha comes from India, walnuts grow in Kashmir, and ivory Buddhas in walnut shells come only from Japan.
In case you don't know, one of the pieces of wrapping paper (all of which were printed with a delicate indelible blossom) was a map of the area around the store where you obtained Manjusri, the map showing not how to get to the store but how to go from the store to a beautiful park nearby. I hope you went. I did. I do.
You say nothing of your writing; perhaps your books will arrive here and speak for themselves. I say nothing of the Teaching; perhaps it may arrive there and speak for itself.
A bouquet of parentheses for you, brother: (((((((((()))))))))).