The hot, thick, stagnant air hung all around us. Even for summer, a heat too intense, too intrusive – warm, sticky fingers in your hair, down your shirt, under your dress. Oh Zeus, if ever in word or deed I did please you, let us breathe again, cooler air, more temperate, pleasant – warm, but not oppressive.
As night fell, the winds came. Aeolos bent his head along the shore and blew fiercely, the frothy white tufts in the sea began to surge, slowly at first, then with great force, tumbling over into the city. As the wind grew stronger, it began to meander through the city streets, turning corners, climbing buildings, until the city was filled with the new, bless-ed air. It became as though a tempest without the rain, a gale as strong as Herakles, and with each gust came a blanket of soothing, crisp air – a promise of the Autumn to come. But not yet. Not yet. Only brief respite from the heat. A prayer heard, and answered.