When humans were still few and men were outnumbered by women, a wise woman met a young man sitting at the road side. In those days it was not safe for a woman to travel alone, but she would do it nonetheless. She was a physician and that man was hurt. He had a thorn stuck into his foot. She didn’t even need to ask him, she knew what was wrong and she pulled out pincers and a vase of healing ointment she made by herself. The young man, who hadn’t even realized she was coming, startled and stared at her bewildered, as though he could not figure out what was going on. The healer was already holding his foot trying to find the thorn and he didn’t dare to refuse that help. The mysterious woman’s hand was already at work and in a snap her pincers got hold of the thorn. No hassle, no pain at all. He was puzzled and he grabbed her healing hand. She was puzzled too and they first looked into each other’s eyes. That look lasted only the fraction of a second. The precious vase full of ointment was broken at her feet and in the very moment he bent down to take the biggest splinter of glass lying on a stone, she was already gone. Suddenly he had realized that a small circle of people was watching him in concern. His finger was wounded and bleeding like a fountain on the stone where the vase had fallen. He put the bleeding finger into his mouth and he could taste the ointment mixed with his blood. He suddenly realized that it was made with honey and that something bad had happened.
[responsivevoice_button voice=”UK English Female” buttontext=”Listen to Post”]Photo by Sebastià Giralt