There are those days when we really feel like we couldn’t be more lost, as if we’re literally fumbling around with out any sort of pattern or clear destination in mind. We’re blurry on the edges, half seeing issues and half seeing appropriate through them. We’re breathing in fog, breathing out fog and our teeth are chattering incoherent error messages, making it really feel as if every single inch of our skin is short two or three heavy-duty blankets. We’re off somewhere, for all intents and purposes, gone – out in the ether. These are the days when we feel that, to cut our losses, we need to just stay on the sides of the windows where the least amount of damage can be accomplished to us, where we’re at least as secure as our belongings, our hoarded stuff makes us really feel. We suppose that the knives could usually turn on us and the very same goes for the glass bottles and jars – likely constantly willing or capable of cracking off their bottoms sides on the edge of a counter to wield a jagged weapon. What we’re most worried about – it appears to me and to Mr. Sam Beam of Iron & Wine – is not when our belongings may come alive, turn on us and seek blood, but when those other individuals that we share a house with, that one individual we share that shaky skin with, decide that they want to turn on us. They don’t know what this can look like and neither do we. We just think it to be the worst that can take place. Beam, over the years, has written his way into these scenes, written us advertently correct into them with him, alongside him, and we stay there, with him, unable to catch our breath. He takes the fog appropriate out of us, counteracts our insecurities with the beautifully hushed uncertainty. It’s as if he has a way of gathering up all of the bumps in the night, all of the fire light and all of the tender touches of a young mother or father, of a dying grandmother or grandfather and bringing them all into the picture to put us at ease. It’s as if all of the points that we’ve ever feared in our lives – bringing life into the wo

Price: $ .00
Sold by Wolfgang’s Vault

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• Iron Pan replica statue
• Greek roman goat god sculpture
• symbol of sexuality and health
• quality foundry cast iron
• approx. 4″Wx3½”Dx10″H. 2 lbs.

Inspired by the Greek Pan statue (460 B.C.) in the National Archaelogical Museum, Athens

If you’ve ever been to Greece, you’re certain to recognize this popular image of Pan, roman goat god of the woods, of fertility, and of male sexuality. For thousands of years, this version of the Greek Pan with his hooves, horns, and exaggerated, erect phallus, has been a symbol of sexuality and health. The artist’s rendition is top quality foundry cast iron sculpture with a bronzed patina set atop a solid white marble base.

List Cost: $ 75.00

Cost: $ 47.50