there it is... these final days here stretch out and expand and retract and snap back into a crumpled form as is the usual fashion of time in the context of consciousness. time, flexible, static, hallucinatory time. and there is a spinning of faces in a vortex and i am about to enter another flux of a life. and the changing of forms that takes place during the days sorrounding departure and arrival, the morphing of images and the once again ironing out of the platform of the everyday is a strange thing. when you begin to live again as if nothing had happened, and percieve things again, and eyes become a clear lucid thing, a vitreous acqueous thing through which the sun shines. and right now there are plates of salmony sauced penne and bottles of cheap red and americans eating cheeseburgers next to us and me trying to figure out why oh why these kids would opt for burger and fries when they could have this instead, there is walking on cobblestones and the feeling of feet arching over, there is the piggybacking at marco's expense, there is the blurring of lights in trastevere and the warmness of hands and coldness of noses on cheeks, there is the reappropriation of rome after too many days spent inside one's own head...
and its ever so beautiful.
bella roma!