Dale of the manor! Mysterious Diva! Flowing silks and smiles that Botticelli would trade all his brushes to paint! I am lucky to live in touch with fairy tales. Such fairy tales are those that people like you bring to reality!
The sun shone for one day only! It was ordered by the Diva on the day that women met in the secret location, deep in the mountains.
But I’ll say no more! Hush! How many curious eyes would love to have followed us few to the place where the Diva held the secret carnival.
The wind was obedient, lying down at our feet. Nothing stirred! Not a branch moved. Zephyr obligingly slept again - the way he slept for the women of Pompeii when they danced in the halls of red and purple!
I stub the floor with the thyrsus wand, as I walk into the Villa of Mysteries. The hostess moves across the lawn, wrapped in flowing gauze. Zephyr is kissing the edges of her dress. Her feet are light in the pearl adorned sandals.
Two wise women create magic potions in the secret chambers of the kitchen. And the offerings appear on the central altar by magic. The clean stone - dark and cold is transformed. It is now the Cornucopia laden with plenty! There is more to come!
The dishes are nesting among the vines. The smell of jasmine fills the space. How lucky us few to be here! To walk the steps: down, down to the rolling hills that seem to have no boundary. The beasts roam silently on those fields. They look at us with indifference. The woman’s assembly is not their concern. They belong in the fairy tale so entirely – they only look amused.
The woman of the flowing dress is commanding us! Her hair is arranged with flowers, her eyes are jewels, her jewellery - like pieces of secret! We gather near her. The revels are about to begin!
Ah! You want to know more! No! My lips are sealed! The Diva, with the flavour of Italian sun is with us only! You will not find out her secret location! No! No! No!
Those words that she speaks are for our ears only! The dance that we dance – is for our feet. The mystery is for our hearts – not anyone else!
Dale of the mystery! No one will discover where the sun has touched your cheek today!
We’ll all be quiet!
Consider this – perhaps all this is just a dream – a figment of my imagination. Perhaps, the feast, the meeting and the drinking is all still buried in the ashes at the foothills of Vesuvius? Perhaps, you should seek them out by the shores of Mediterranean?
When you are there, looking at the red walls – see, if you can spot a shadow of one of us in the hall…
Maybe we never left at all…
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