I lived on a low fortified hill, next to the age-old road that connects the East with the West, a few kilometres away from the place that would later be Ancient Pella, the capital of Macedonia. I was a respected woman in my community and when time came for my journey to the other side, I was bidden farewell as tradition demands.
I was accompanied with all appropriate offerings, with part of my household goods, the jewellry, the valuable clothes and shoes. But above all with the golden mask, the eternal guardian of my soul.
