Trafika Europe 3 - Latvian Sojourn

yet only unearthed a seven-legged, headless marble statue. Like an omen! She smashed and threw it in the hungry gullet of the sea. At last she gave away her camels, found peace in the Mar Elias monastery; later atop Sidon hill in a house she called Dahr El Sitt, she welcomed hundreds of refugees, ruled the region with her monthly pension and lavish gifts. The secret words of the desert wind she translated to her whim: I am the Morning Star, principal rider of this world. At last, despite the silk, the alabaster and cashmere she sank into senility, robbed by her servants. Dear Wirginia, she did not write in her cell, just lay alone with two hunchbacked horses seemingly sacred to her in place of a bed – received guests only at nightfall, not wanting them to see her human

(all-too-human) face and hands, walled into that fortress on the hill like an idol, like a statue.

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