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Once, I was carried on the wind to the land between the rivers and there I met a man with clever eyes. For seven years, I watched him calling on the spirits, burning dough and bidding men throw red thread in the fire.
On the night I left, he left this jar upon the roof top, wishing Ishtar’s gaze to fall upon the wine. I, of course, magpie-fingered, could not leave without it. Perhaps you will feel the same pricking in your fingertips, the call of the cosmic beneath the stars too much to resist?
Once, I was carried on the wind to the land between the rivers and there I met a man with clever eyes. For seven years, I watched him calling on the spirits, burning dough and bidding men throw red thread in the fire.
On the night I left, he left this jar upon the roof top, wishing Ishtar’s gaze to fall upon the wine. I, of course, magpie-fingered, could not leave without it. Perhaps you will feel the same pricking in your fingertips, the call of the cosmic beneath the stars too much to resist?
