ROME VI

March 11, 2011

A few birds--piccolo ucelli-- twittered before the morning traffic began in the city below. Walked the streets of Trastevere last night, then home along Tevere. The winding streets were joyful, full of life, and it is to there I must repair should I return again. Everything in my life should have been done twenty years before it was. I was not happy on the walk home, and my dreams before waking this morning were turbulent. Maybe just travel anxiety. One of my plays was being done badly in the choir room at Frohring Hall at Hiram. Several of us were trying to organize a summer camp, and quarreling bitterly. Something about having to sleep on a steeply pitched roof—. So I’m up much too early, but it gives me time to prepare, and it was better than the dreams. Remembering the moon gliding across the dome of St. Peter’s.

There will not be the heart-stab at leaving Rome as there is at leaving Ireland. For one thing, I wasn’t here long enough; attachment had only begun. For another, there is no sense of a plausible life alternative lost. Though I could have been an Irishman reared up in any little town I ever entered, I could never have been a Roman. I can’t even put my finger on what the Roman’s have that I could never– ease? Suavity? It is attractive, but I see no use in wanting it for myself.

Bought only my Italian Whitman. I go home lighter than I came.