I’m sitting here in Siwa. it’s the last day that we’re here we’re actually leaving in a couple of hours. I’m sitting in front of the reflection pool of this eco-village that somehow restores ones health physically and possibly emotionally. I watch a bird hop around and fly from spot to spot possibly bringing branches or twigs for a nest or just foraging. The staff who work here interrupt the silence with their duties cleaning the trash preparing breakfast making sure the guests will be taken care of. Each time I sit here I think of the story cycle what did she called and  how does it begin. I think of the stories within that story cycle. I think of the story about the secret society of humans who believe they descended from birds and how they message each other across the world secretly but in the public guy through there letters in threads of messages . I think of the flight of Horus and how it could be an old old fable about staying close to your parents or simply the name of a drink in a bar.