Living in fresh air: #5. A northerly island in the Atlantic Ocean once acted as a refuge for peoples with slightly odd and different ways from their mainland conquerors, was once a rainforest dense with trees and wildlife, was once the portal for alien communication, or so some say... Today it is a chunk of crystal earth covered mostly by grasses and millions of little humans in tiny stone townhouses. The wind blows furiously across the moors, chilly and fresh. To keep out the damp, windows are cracked even in the depths of winter, and this means wearing a hat inside. Even my lease has a byline which states that I will keep the residence truly aired. While it has taken some getting used to, I have grown to LOVE this unceasing breeze...it means I get to wear billowy skirts (with nice thick leggings underneath). It means I get to hear the outside noises of my garden and my street at night. It means I get to feel the propulsion of the air element and the resistance of it too. A new popular book on the newsstands here is The Cloudspotters Guide. Yes, we watch them, we notice just how full of rain they are, we track their speed, we divine their shapes. Air that is fresh and consistent and open, well I guess I would like that!
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