The winds blow, carrying spice and sand and death from the desert, water from the forests, ice from the mountains, fire from the lands of
fire, air from everywhere, and from itself. Stand one day in a high place,
Witt the wind all about you, and none else there but you, and if you listen, you may here secrets whispered to you, on the breath of the wind,
secrets many, and yours among them, for the wind knows all things, and it sees all, forgets nothing.