マヌー・ベネットのインスタグラム(manubennett) - 6月27日 02時25分


I feel spiritually compelled to write this personal account of a recent event The Naked Man
The Mountain itself was breathing as we drove up the winding dirt road toward Sarmizegetusa. My heart felt heavy but an encouraging mist hovered in the air, reminding me of Tuhoi (Maori) tales about fairy people. It was becoming tangeable, this thread forming between our two cultures, Dacian & Maori. Weather had formed a blanket of sorrow over the mountain, storm clouds embracing this mass grave of innocent souls. I felt it with my own, these Dacians chanting, dancing in widening circles, untold love stories, children chasing eachother through the trees & finally, a speech by King Decebalus to his cornered people, We are warriors!! Our gods will protect!! I breathed in deep the chill air rushing toward me as I straightened upright through the open sunroof of the BMW like some lark teenager on graduation night, standing in defiance against the threatening, unknown world.

As we parked, I exited the car, felt the wind change, the clouds beginning to expand & a rumbling of the gods. I realized I was about to step into the only circle that remained of the Dacians, a people who no longer existed, a once mighty nation of men, women & children, who in 106AD were annihilated by the Roman Empire.

My heart & soul turned against the time that separated us, began unwinding the clock & I started to run up the mountain, each climbing step reciting the words of the Maori haka, "Kia rite! KIA RITE!!" "Prepare! PREPARE!!! Would my words matter? Would they be heard?

M.


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