The word migjorn is Catalan for “midday”, and it is the term for the wind that comes down off the mountain. It is a force of nature, that shapes trees and carves stone, and we are in the arms of that wind. Welcome, wind.
Forty days of rain, forty years in the wilderness, forty days on the mountain; forty years old, forty sons, forty cubits, forty baths, forty days’ fast.
She lay like fallen leaves. As if a breeze brushed them, her wings fluttered odd angles; as I watched they reached for my breath, through the glass she thought was air.