Careful observations on the written word
The rack is still there. It sits outside a tabacchi on the SS2, the old Via Cassia, a few kilometers before you reach Soriano nel Cimino, and it turns on a rusted spindle that squeaks if you touch it, though almost no one touches it anymore. Forty-some cards, maybe fewer now,...
Never to get lost is not to live. Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost The lanterns go up in September, strung between stone walls that have held the same shape since before anyone alive can remember. By the first weekend of October, when the chestnut smoke starts...
"The world is not a problem to be solved; it is a living being to which we belong.", Lois Farrow Parshley, translating Simone Weil --- There is a particular morning I keep returning to. Not because anything happened. Nothing did. I was standing at a bus stop in London sometime...