And my mother? Wont she protect me? I asked.
Of course, Saturn sighed, for people like you, the support, approval, love and care of loved ones are important. There is a strong attachment to the well of the Past and mother. The well is hidden in the basement of the Tower. Diving into it, youll become a deep personality.
Will I have a big family?
The family is not to be mentioned here, Saturn sighed again. Anyway, youll strive to build a cozy nest in a quiet harbor in order to feel safe. When you acquire a shell, people will no longer understand who you are the stony expression on your face will become your mask. Unlike most earthly women, you are unsociable and laconic, though you know to listen and hear, you have the ability to speak without words. Look for those with whom you can communicate as customary here. Your Selene tends to help people. You are inclined to self-sacrifice. A devoted, honest and faithful, but easily inspired soul, you are open to magical influences, primarily by husbands and / or business partners. Youll be deceived and betrayed, however, its better to be betrayed by someone than to betray someone.
Will I live by the sea?
Youll love and fear it at the same time, painting it from childhood, even before you have seen it with earthly eyes. What did you feel walking across the bridge?
Fear, I agreed with Saturn.
Suddenly, thunder rumbled outside the window and rain poured down instantly.
Uranus is naughty, Saturn sighed. Well, Ive said enough about your Cancer essence, the Moon will tell you the rest.
Ghosts began to appear from the cracked mirror, surrounding me and pulling me into
Library of the Universe
I dont understand, I confessed to the Guardian, as I took a seat in the Reading Hall, why are there, in my Consciousness, ghosts appearing and the monk living, and the sign Memento mori on the door to the cell? Saturn said nothing about himself, the Moon sailed over the Tower in the distance, and the sea wanted to drown me.
Not all at once, Rukh! The Stairs must be walked, not jumped. Listen attentively and absorb the information. Itll be easier to remember on Earth.
The book flatted open at page with The Girl and the Sea miniature.
She used to sit for a long time by the Sea at sunset, the Girl in a pink dress. Lost in thoughts about something, she was gazing into the Sky. There was a Mysterious Land in the clouds, where winged people lived. Lilac castles beckoned her to them, in their quaint gardens fabulous flowers were fragrant and magical birds were singing. The wind carried unusual aromas and echoes of enchanting melodies to the Girl. And she also saw familiar faces there, they smiled and called the Girl to their Heavenly Country, to the City of the Sun. She dreamed of getting to them, but didnt know how to do it, because she had no wings. The Sun was setting into the Sea. Warm waves caressed her legs, singing a quiet kind song that she had heard from her mother when she was still a baby. The Girl looked around, but there was no one on the shore, and she felt completely lonely. The gloomy Rocks didnt understand her, because they couldnt feel anything, however, that was the reason they would never die. The Rocks, as usual, were only watching silently the picture at sunset: the Girl and the Sea. The Sun was approaching the horizon. The waves were whispering louder and louder. The Magic Country floated away, losing its outlines. The Girl was standing by the Sea, and her tears fell onto the waves, and the Sea became salty The seagulls that flew to the seashore in the evening didnt find anyone there. The Sun sank behind the horizon, and the Night came. Somewhere far away in the Sky, the seagulls noticed the outlines of an unknown City. They wondered, what kind of City it was, being situated not on Earth, but in the Sky. They had never seen such cities before! And the two most curious seagulls decided to make a flight to the mysterious City, but they had not enough strength to reach it. And the Girl disappeared. The Rocks no longer saw her there, on the seashore, at sunset. Only the book left by the Girl on the coastal stone reminded them of her existence.
On the border
Ouranoupoli
I woke up to the alarm at 9:50. I had a strange dream, but Ray what did he try to say? The Island of Violets actually existed. Michael, an excellent poet and deputy minister, had invited me once to that cafe to celebrate the release of his book, which included also some poems dedicated to me. Michael dreamed of celebrating my wedding in Italy.
I went down for breakfast. Nicolettes mom used to cook herself. Her breakfasts were much tastier than in hotels. My room was more spacious, and what a gorgeous balcony I had! In the afternoon, the Sun left it, allowing me to dine enjoying the view of the islands in the azure sea; at night, the Moon used to float by, and a mysterious multi-beam star winked me. The house was built on a rock overlooking the sea, in a word, I lived on the top floor of the mysterious Tower in order to calmly talk with Heaven without fear of tsunami. Funny! I was lucky on 13, that was the number of my apartment on Athos, my dacha and garage, my ex-husbands flat in Moscow, the last digits of my phone number and so on.
Rising from breakfast, I ran into the maid and asked her not to clean my place every day, just to take out the garbage, since I liked to feel as at home.
Sea sea sea After swimming, I used to plop down in the white sand by the distant rocks, and then to return home, buying on the way some ice cream and fruit in Acropolis Taverns minimarket, where I occasionally had dinner.
After reading The Girl and the Sea, which hadnt much to be corrected, I fell into childhood memories, but at exactly 18:00 I loved everything systemic, not digesting chaos and since it was too hot during the day I went for a walk to the Athos border, taking with me the Akathist to the Seeking for the Perished icon of the Virgin Mary. On the way, I visited the Church of Saints Constantine and Helena, where there were the Gatekeeper (Portaitissa), Quick to Hear (Gorgoepikoos) and an old icon of St. Petka Paraskeva, beloved by the Greeks and me. The icon of Petka, I had bought on St. Stephen island in Montenegro, where I had lived in a castle on vacation a long time before, was the first hand-painted icon in my house. In Ouranoupoli, you could enter the church in any clothes and shoes, and Greek women didnt cover their heads with scarves for the memory of the war with Turkey a protest against Muslim customs. Inside the church, there was air conditioning and chairs for parishioners to sit, except for special moments of liturgy.
The road to the border with Athos started from the Tower and went to the left along the sea, perpendicular to the main street. In about 30 minutes you could see the Zygou monastery, the monument Protected by UNESCO, the golden coat of arms of Mount Athos, barbed wire and a small customs house, although in 99% of cases, if the sea wasnt stormy, they got to Athos by ferry, not by land. I liked that rural road past the vineyards and olive groves, the lands of local residents, and the tiny luxury hotel Sketes, where I wouldnt have stayed, because the sea after the Tower was different, it changed dramatically, turning from kind and homely to spontaneous and harsh, as if the real border had been located at the Tower.
I reached the border and habitually stopped at the ruined Zygou, first mentioned in 941. Usually access to the excavation area was closed, but Sophia, Dimitras daughter, had taken me there and shown all sorts of interesting and curious things. I turned right and walked to the sea along the barbed wire, greeted the Holy Mountain and read the Akathist. Guards by the wire wasps were flying to scan intentions, but I wasnt going to cross the border, and they left me alone.