My father was a gust of air, brought to life by Aeolus. He carried pomegranate seeds, made from the tears of nymphs, at the highest point on the rock of lýpi. He picked orchids from the valley of óneira, and carried them to mount astéria, where they would blossom eternally. My mother was a sorrowful starfish born deep in the krýo caves. I was created from dark blue brine and carried by the tide of thakria, to a rock as sharp as obsidian, where the force of the sea and the rock, cut through my body and created a pearl. Beneath the opal glow of twilight, the pearl was discovered by a korítsi dancer from the island of chryso meli , and she hid it in a silk-laden shell, where it remained forgotten, until one day a red speckled fawn lost it’s way on the mountainside. A forceful gale threatened to push the terrified deer to it’s watery death in the sea, but the shell broke it’s fall and shattered into a million pieces. The deer escaped and the shell was destroyed, and in this rush of madness, the pearl was flung into an olive tree, where it lay dangling by a silken thread. As the days grew colder and an icy chill descended over the island, the pearl seemed to have blackened and it lost it’s shine. Where there had once been memories of sweet blossoms and endless beauty, now only frost flowered, and everything on the island seemed to pass into a mournful state of despondency. It was as though nothing could have possibly grown in such stagnancy, until finally the cold relented and the sun began to shine again, and just then the blackened pearl began to sway on the branch, in the gentle breeze. It looked as though the pearl might break from it’s silken cocoon and fall into the sea, then suddenly it tore open and a glorious rush of turquoise lit up the sky, it was a butterfly, flying to freedom. This is how I got my spirit name, paidí tou anémou-child of the wind.
