"Why it’s simply impassible!"
Alice: “Why, don’t you mean impossible?”
Door: “No, I do mean impassible. (chuckles) Nothing’s impossible!”

- Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

(Alleyway door and detail; Montepulciano; iphone 5)

Passion for Solitude
BY CESARE PAVESE
TRANSLATED BY GEOFFREY BROCK

I’m eating a little supper by the bright window.
The room’s already dark, the sky’s starting to turn.
Outside my door, the quiet roads lead,
after a short walk, to open fields.
I’m eating, watching the sky—who knows
how many women are eating now. My body is calm:
labor dulls all the senses, and dulls women too.

Outside, after supper, the stars will come out to touch
the wide plain of the earth. The stars are alive,
but not worth these cherries, which I’m eating alone.
I look at the sky, know that lights already are shining
among rust-red roofs, noises of people beneath them.
A gulp of my drink, and my body can taste the life
of plants and of rivers. It feels detached from things.
A small dose of silence suffices, and everything’s still,
in its true place, just like my body is still.

All things become islands before my senses,
which accept them as a matter of course: a murmur of silence.
All things in this darkness—I can know all of them,
just as I know that blood flows in my veins.
The plain is a great flowing of water through plants,
a supper of all things. Each plant, and each stone,
lives motionlessly. I hear my food feeding my veins
with each living thing that this plain provides.

The night doesn’t matter. The square patch of sky
whispers all the loud noises to me, and a small star
struggles in emptiness, far from all foods,
from all houses, alien. It isn’t enough for itself,
it needs too many companions. Here in the dark, alone,
my body is calm, it feels it’s in charge.

(Photo: outside the 2nd wall; montepulciano; iPhone 5)

Passion for Solitude
BY CESARE PAVESE
TRANSLATED BY GEOFFREY BROCK

I’m eating a little supper by the bright window.
The room’s already dark, the sky’s starting to turn.
Outside my door, the quiet roads lead,
after a short walk, to open fields.
I’m eating, watching the sky—who knows
how many women are eating now. My body is calm:
labor dulls all the senses, and dulls women too.

Outside, after supper, the stars will come out to touch
the wide plain of the earth. The stars are alive,
but not worth these cherries, which I’m eating alone.
I look at the sky, know that lights already are shining
among rust-red roofs, noises of people beneath them.
A gulp of my drink, and my body can taste the life
of plants and of rivers. It feels detached from things.
A small dose of silence suffices, and everything’s still,
in its true place, just like my body is still.

All things become islands before my senses,
which accept them as a matter of course: a murmur of silence.
All things in this darkness—I can know all of them,
just as I know that blood flows in my veins.
The plain is a great flowing of water through plants,
a supper of all things. Each plant, and each stone,
lives motionlessly. I hear my food feeding my veins
with each living thing that this plain provides.

The night doesn’t matter. The square patch of sky
whispers all the loud noises to me, and a small star
struggles in emptiness, far from all foods,
from all houses, alien. It isn’t enough for itself,
it needs too many companions. Here in the dark, alone,
my body is calm, it feels it’s in charge.

(Photo: outside the 2nd wall; montepulciano; iPhone 5)

It’s true what they say about the light, you know.

(Montepulciano; iPhone 5)

It’s true what they say about the light, you know.

(Montepulciano; iPhone 5)

A serious discussion regarding biblical exegesis takes place outside of Chiesa di St. Augistino. …  Or not …. 

(Montepulciano; iphone 5)

A serious discussion regarding biblical exegesis takes place outside of Chiesa di St. Augistino. … Or not ….

(Montepulciano; iphone 5)

"Love is not consolation. It is light."
― Simone Weil

(Fireside stairs; 9th c. Fortezza; Tuscany; iPhone 5)

"Love is not consolation. It is light."
― Simone Weil

(Fireside stairs; 9th c. Fortezza; Tuscany; iPhone 5)

"The scenes in our life resemble pictures in a rough mosaic; they are ineffective from close up, and have to be viewed from a distance if they are to seem beautiful. … That is why most men discover when they look back on their life that they have been living the whole time ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived."

-Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms 

(Mosaic artist; detail; Montepulciano, Italy; iphone 5)

"The scenes in our life resemble pictures in a rough mosaic; they are ineffective from close up, and have to be viewed from a distance if they are to seem beautiful. … That is why most men discover when they look back on their life that they have been living the whole time ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived."

-Arthur Schopenhauer, Essays and Aphorisms

(Mosaic artist; detail; Montepulciano, Italy; iphone 5)

"When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever."

Alexandre Dumas, ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’

(Photo manipulation; mine)

"When you compare the sorrows of real life to the pleasures of the imaginary one, you will never want to live again, only to dream forever."

Alexandre Dumas, ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’

(Photo manipulation; mine)