When I was a young boy, I lived in the shadow of a great mountain. For hours, I would sit outside and stare up at it, mesmerized by the play of light and shadows as the day progressed. Known for centuries as i a-kitch, I still dream about that mountain.
While on Mt. Etna recently, I would get up early, before sunrise, and sit on my little patio, watching the sun making its way to the mountain. Birds were awakening, the world was rousing. Etna was there, waiting.