© SOTT.netThe ever stylish Mr PG arrives in Cyprus
My name is Guinn. Penn Guinn. Upon leaving my familiar environment of ice-cold Antarctica, I was determined to travel around the Earth in search of clues of the miraculous: that, as yet unidentifiable but eternally present spirit of the creative universe that resides above and below, within and without, permeates and penetrates all, but alas! is invisible to the untrained eye. But such a task is not difficult for one of
Aptenodytes Forsteri genus such as I, who in the aforementioned inhospitable surroundings learned to distinguish, from an early age, the thousand different shades of white.
And so my seeking has led me to awareness enhancing journeys through the coastal
Tel Aviv, the Italian
Apennines, the French
Riviera and
Hendaye, the English
Countryside. It was while spending some time with elderly British folks in my last travels that I heard about the island of Cyprus: a small troubled place shrouded in mystery, intimately connected with the
birth of the Greek Goddess of Love and the
birth of the Christian Orthodox church. Following some preliminary research, it dawned on me that both Aphrodite and graceful Mary would need to be dressed
à la mode in order to fit in in modern day Cyprus. Not that I care too much for appearances you see. But wishing to blend in with the crowds, I spent the winter at my chilly home awaiting the unappealing molting of my pelage to take its course before setting off for the sunny island. Come springtime, all dapper in my new velvety plumage, I was ready for my next adventure!
