Cassandra (centre) drawing lots with her right hand predicts the downfall of Troy in front of Priam (seated, on the left), Paris (holding the apple of discord) and a warrior leaning on a spear, presumably Hector.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Cleanliness is next to godliness, it is said. Still, I find myself wishing more and more often that the snakes had left at least a little dirt in my ears. I already know who Paris will bring home with him, and already I hear Hector’s last breath, but everyone is deaf to my warnings.
Sometimes I hear the voices of my children telling me that Troy fell ages ago.
Sometimes I hear my grandchildren’s voices, and those must be my imagination, because I will never have grandchildren, and those voices tell me that I never even experienced the fall of Troy.
I always wish I could believe them.
A Bolg? 