Today was so chill.
I didn’t go anywhere. I woke up
late, did some sink laundry and read Petrarch.
The light outside was gorgeous – golden, but not blazing. The wind played the water like a piano with
luscious rhythms that feed your soul. Tonight, a group of us went to have
dinner at Monkey’s Pub and watch Germany get their swingers handed to them by
Ghana. This World Cup is stomping all over what is considered typical. They do say, when you take the Europeans out
of Europe, anything can happen. Remember
South Korea/Japan 2002? The US beat
Portugal in a game that was a holy mess.
It was pouring down rain and the USMNT left everything on the field to
squeak out a win by one goal. Let’s see if Portugal can win a game standing
upright and not lying down on the wet grass.
Last night we had dinner at the professor’s condo. There was cheese, fruit, Italian charcuterie,
sausage and three kinds of pasta . Then
we had class. I kid you not. After dinner, we spent two hours on Dante’s Purgatorio.
Just out of curiosity, I read the last canto. The last couple of
lines reached out to me. I don’t know what they want from me, but they won’t
let me go.
But now my will and
my desire were turned,
as wheels that move
in equilibrium,
by love that moves the sun and other stars.
I don’t know what it is, but something in me responded to
those lines like guitar strings being strummed. That may be something to be
explored later in a diary or essay.
We covered Dante in two days. Just the Purgatorio. Sometimes short is best because you have
to either grab the basics or spend a few months. Anything in between will just frustrate you
at having to decide what to keep and what to ignore.
No comments:
Post a Comment