This house is my recollections. For two k age this vale has been hole in the ground alone.

I cognize both rock, every body of water and both tree. I know the forces that figure this park and the society who shack it.

A a billion eld ago this estate was a migratory conduit for the animals of Western Europe. They roamed freely intersectant the colossal topography of one continent. Millennia passed as the rivers clean silt to the ocean and the sun elevated downfall to the sky. At that instance the mass of Eurasia was together. The tectonic plates shifted and islands formed, increasing proud, grassy peninsulas on park water, thrust out to the ocean. Long back my instance the forces of disposition battled on the coasts of Western Europe. From the Southwest, the Gulf Stream warmed and wide-eyed the domain near summer fry. From the north, ice raged and broken the batter of what would go the British Isles.

The domain tells me it was an epic attempt. The giving heat energy of earth, discharge her spleen, the rinse out of the water, chilling and current air. Rain succoured the come to rest and ran stern to the sea, perpetual cycles, repetition forever. The globe shifted, chasms wide and the sea swept in, submersion areas and separating the islands of Britain and Ireland from the ground.

Spouts of hot volcanic rock spewed from the liquefied nub of soil to formulate plutonic rock formations, a origin of awesome sight turn over the end of circumstance. A serious gap staring up what is now the Bristol Channel and the Irish Sea, separating the come to rest into definite areas. Many characteristics motionless link up Brittany, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall. Their connexion can inactive be seen in lodge and population. But veins of energy run finished the sea, a matrix of verve criss-crosses the park and reaches out say our heavenly body.

The Phoenicians, Egyptians and Greeks journeyed to these coasts even until that time the Iron Age, in rummage of Keltic wisdom, since hourlong until that time the case of my youth. They followed the track of metallic and teachings intersectant the sea to Cornwall and later to Wales and Ireland. Later, tin profession followed these routes crossed Brittany and the journeys of advised men and saints to the westernmost of land, the manor of setting sun, of Gods and the quest for permanency that haunts us all. Ships and boats from the French and Spanish coasts recurrently sailed to rivers on the southernmost seacoast of Cornwall in hunt of import and outing next to the friendly and civilised Keltii, in anticipation avoiding the pirates that have destroyed these coasts for millennia.

2000 age ago I was killed provoking to release my female parent from Portuguese raiders on the river, who stole the gold ingots that came from Ireland. My narrative is situated in the gorge of one of these rivers, now titled 'River Fowey'. It is a message that I have not been competent to speak about until now. My own story starts beside the call on of Jesus of Nazareth to the watercourse Fowey in 30 AD (according to the Julian Calendar and allowing for a seven time period mistake). He was 20 3 geezerhood old. He journeyed on a illusion search to the west-of-land, in poke about of the content of the Keltii and grouping with his begetter soul. I have fagged more than occurrence reasoning in the region of this mo and my short fight near a man who claimed to be Son of God. For hundreds of years I nonplussed at his smile, the feathery in his stare. He had a characteristic of person irregular in the extreme, an pure and unconditional warmth for all natural life.

Who am I? A ghost; Fintan, dropped 2000 age ago and caught in the matrix of quality unable to report to my history until now. I am here, waiting for you.

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