January 29, 2016

I wanted to gather good memories together. This was in response to hours and hours in which it seemed that the only memories that came to me spontaneously were sad or defeated or embarrassing. What if I had to cast a Patronus and could think of no good thing? I thought of twilight in Valeeta, when the people disappeared and streets were stone canyons filled with cats, and one man came from a stone house with a fantastical instrument. He sat down on a stone, and as Venus first twinkled in the sky above him, played on “Lascia chi’o pianga” on the fantastical instrument. I thought of the bar in Sligo where I came, thinking to cap off a long day, and the musicians meeting randomly at the side suddenly hit an improvisation of such sublime and solemn beauty that everyone sat staring at the floor. I thought Evensong at Saint Patrick’s. and then walking to the sauna in Dublin where the love was wild and holy. Lascia chi’o pianga. I thought of Temple Square in Temple Bar, the gypsy buskers singing with their balls and stomachs. I think of the road near Gort where I walked in solitude, with the red deer snoring around me, and the moon came up and the sky was a blue bowl with a few stars in it, and I was so happy that for a moment I thought I had been unborn, and alive in paradise.