Areti felt deeply uneasy. Manolis, unable to sleep, had left the house in the early hours of the morning in a dark mood. His face had changed as if a spirit of evil possessed him. She had never been afraid of him before but she felt fear now.
She rose too and went into her little back room, drew the curtains, lit a candle and burnt some dried thyme and chamomile in a stone vessel to clear the air. Manolis was never allowed in here for she didn't want his disruptive vibrations to reverberate in this peaceful room. This was her hallowed shrine in which she sat and meditated, drifted off into her own trances and visited places few knew about or would have understood.