~maestro of modica~

October 23rd, 2019


We drove to the hillside commune of Modica, and while hoofing up the mountain to check out the Baroque alta (upper region), befriended a man who guided us to the main (and most decorative) drag.



He showed us various buildings, including his own, once housing his medical practice (now retired), and when departing, gave me the oldest seed in the world, pulled from his pocket.



I later identified it as the seed of carob, or St. John’s Bread (so named b/c John the Baptist is said to have survived on carob pods—aka locust and wild honey—when in the desert. This was apparently some time before Salome danced with seven veils and demanded the prophet’s head on a platter, on behalf of her vengeful mother.)



It’s the third such gift (the seed, no head) I received on this journey—along with an offer, by the artist, to make a wish at his altar to Casandra (the Greek prophet who spoke truth that no one believed, and so thought her mad), and a  leather keychain hand-tooled with my astrological sign, from another artist and fellow Cancerian.



(To say nothing of ghost fox and owl visitations.)


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