Spirits are Walking Abroad

This morning the silence is not empty but full. There are presences out there, around my little house; I can sense them. I look through the windows and see the cold mist breathing in and among the trees like ghosts. I step outside, wanting to take photographs of it, but my poor little camera is not up to the task, since it has no settings that can be adjusted. But it would be hard to record an image of these wandering spirits with even a good camera; perhaps it is their wish not to be photographed, and their nature to prevent it. Back inside I return.

And then unexpectedly, with the appearance of the sun over the great

Mount Barú, there is light everywhere, chasing the last vestiges of these mist-ghosts back into their shadowy lairs. Dawn arrives in splendor, with intense azure above the lower horizon, deepening over the mountains, and, high up in the firmament, a few thin cirrus glowing in saffron and pink, caught in the rays of the Sun yet below the horizon, for here on the earth below, all is still dark, still dark.

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As they come to me to be written, new chapters will be added to this blog, so stay tuned! But the blogs up to a certain point are now chapters are now in a book.

So, to read more, you need the book A WRITER IN PANAMÁ.

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