"In sacred space everything is done so that the enviroment creates a metaphor." - Joseph Campbell
Edisto Island lies among winding rivers and curving ribbons of sea. Snakes of water. The twenty-four mile road that leaves Highway 17 and heads out into the sea, twists and turns and carries me like a song, like a psalm, in its healing beauty and rhythm. The island is called Paradise, and is chock full of snakes, real, living snakes. Who doesn't long for Paradise?
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