Ritual & Word Play
Steven Faulkner on Ancient & Modern Witnesses to a Fruitful Endowment
I found myself walking along a camel track with three old men on their way to a shrine on the ancient island of Crete. I was listening, because I have little to say at times like this, only questions. It was a hot day in June, sultry, with a warm wind off the sea, our sandals kicking the dust, stepping over donkey dung, and avoiding the roadside thistles. Sometimes we caught a glimpse of the ocean.
The Athenian Philosopher
The shrine was a long way off through broken country, so there was time to talk and time . . .