Tracing my ancestry back to the Romans, I see the pains and the outgoing nature of my forefathers. I see their love of life and hospitality. I imagine myself there ensconced by mountains, painted monasteries and wooden churches. Lost in nature, I can hear the space, smell the ground, taste the water, see the fire, and touch the wind. But my logic defies my heart and I ask myself: "Do I still believe in the Gods that mythology talks about? Am I not the one that prefers science over spiritualism?"
A cold air is threatening the day as the clouds gather over the opaque sky. It's morning again. The sun tries to rise upon this icy town and the light intensifies my need for meditation. I realize that even time itself converts its past into present, trying to reach to the end of eternity. This is why in my family tradition is something of which we are and we are what the time and the place tells us to be. This may be the reason we have never lost our faith and love for God. |