Yes, of course, I'm paraphrasing one of my favorite lines from Marcus Aurelius. After spending three weeks in Portugal this summer it's not particularly surprising that it sneaks into my thoughts almost daily. Here's one of the images that never seems to go very far away: the field above our cottage, next to the castle and the mysterious and creepy graineries. I would walk up there every night as the sun was going down. On this particular night the light was very gentle the wind was gently moving the heather (or at least what I thought was heather) around.
I will have much more to say about the graineries in future posts.
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