am writing to you although I have no hope of this reaching you.
are lost. A storm and a raging wind arose soon after we set sail, and we
have been blown off-course. The lands we see are unfamiliar and dark; the
seas toss us about like a toy of the gods. When the waves do quiet
themselves, the wind disappears and our sails go slack; the ship sits like a
statue on the glass of the sea.
the little traveler Iíve placed on this card fly this to you, make an
offering to the gods on my behalf so I might return to you.
Ms. Spachman's 3rd & 4th