The Wind Spirit was ill this dark morning. He raged, scraping the windows of my house, howling in pain as he grabbed the rain in confusion, tossing it in every direction. The fireplace flue fluttered, the roof vents rattled, and the casement glass pinged. The Wind Spirit was attempting entry.
I lay in the safety of my bed secure in the perception that the house was my protector. “Eos* is upon us.” I told the Spirit. “She will scatter the shadows of the dark, and you will be free of your pain.”
When light finally broke through, the Wind Spirit eased his way through the hole in the sky and quelled himself. Helios ** then began to warm the wet cold earth in calm silence.
Greek Mythology
* Goddess of Dawn
** Sun God
"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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—Mark Twain, 1896
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Friday, January 2, 2009
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Terracina/San Felice
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