I once dreamed of living in Rome. This blog is the nearest I’ll get to it.
When I think of the Piazza Navona in Rome I think of you now.
Last time I was there I was walking around, and every coffee I had, or wine I sipped, or smile I gave to a passing man, or Bernini fountains I stopped and stood at for the hundredth time pondering with fresh eyes, or place I wandered into… gazing at everything in Saint Agnese, or in the museums near by; I thought about you there in the piazza before me, and after me, off in your own reverie, not thinking of me except when I asked for an image of you once, standing before a marble goddess. You sent it to your part-time Aphrodite on Hérmes’ winged feet, and I treasured it, and buried it, like Crassus’ riches.
You have captured my imagination against my will, and that’s kind of lovely.
This strange, exciting, impossible idea of you…
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