Momentary Blindness #2

There’s something magical about sun-showers to me, there always has been. To feel the

warmth of the sun on my skin mixed with the soothing sounds of raindrops on the sidewalk

is such a soothing sensation, and to feel that atop the Palatine Hill, surrounded by such

dense history, feels unlike any other.

I hear pebbles in the walkway shuffling under people’s feet, and the leaves of the orange

trees rustling in the gentle breeze. Small clicks of the pebbles under pigeons’ little feet or

the frantic scattering under the feet of a running puppy amuse me compared to the heavy

steps of humans. I hear a family pushing a stroller with a kid running alongside it in the

distance.

Water drips onto my head from the tree that I’m sitting under. I’m sitting on my raincoat so

that the soaked wood of the bench can’t soak through to me, but that means I can’t cover

my head. I stop taking notes in my notebook, as I’m afraid it’ll get wet, switching over to

Google Docs on my phone.

Another breeze strikes the tree I’m under, causing more rain to fall on me from the leaves,

the clouds move to cover the sun, and suddenly I’m cold. Though I should probably fear

sunburn more than I do, I miss feeling the sun on my skin when it goes away. I sit in the

shade, wasting my jacket for a seat rather than bundling up against the wind, but regardless

I am comfortable. I am serene, and I am at peace.

Ekphrasis #1

How many times can a girl read
the story of the shield of Achilles?
Reborn in the shield of Aeneas,
in foundational stories yet to unfold,
yet destined to be led by men,
she is bored.

Give me the shield of Minerva.
To the gods, I beg:
for the story of womankind,
the women who suffered
in the founding of this beautiful city,
the women who were not allowed to fight
but instead had to sit and weave and wait;

Minerva does not have bounds,
goddess of weaving and wisdom in battle,
women's crafts and warcraft cannot be so far apart,
and perhaps, like the goddess, they can reside within a woman together.

What is on Minerva's shield, I can only guess,
for no epic will explain it to me.
I see the cosmos in a four pointed star,
our Earth in the center, the heavens surrounding,
created by the untold stories of women around the world.

Momentary Blindness #1 (reposted)

Water from the Fontana del Nettuno rushes in my ear, just a few feet away.
As if out of a movie, I can hear an accordion playing Italian music faintly in the
distance. Just like any tourist destination, a world’s worth of languages flow in
and out of my ears as melodically as the accordion and rushed as the water.

I continue to keep my head down as men, hands jingling with jewelry or selfie
sticks approach me. I can hear them heckling tourists as they pass, their footsteps
shuffling by me along the cobblestones.

A pigeon walks by me, its nails clicking and clacking as it wanders in search of food,
likely smelling the same food from the restaurants around us that I do.

Any other thoughts I have are cut off by a familiar tune- the accordion player gave
up on traditional Italian music, now aiming for a rendition of Hava Nagila; suddenly
I’m 13 years old and at a Bar Mitzvah again. I can feel the melody flowing through
me, nostalgic as ever.

Eventually, I get lost in my thoughts again, and all the noises around me blend
together. The water blends into the background, even the accordion is less noticeable
than before. People’s feet shuffle quieter than before, and even the children laughing
and screaming seem to fade away.

My feet ache as I sit. I don’t realize how much I walk until I’ve already done it, but
fully immersing myself in the sensory experience that is Rome is already worth it
in every way.

Voyeur #1 (reposted)

An unknown figure with an unknown purpose walks across Piazza San Pietro: a spy.
Head tucked down, hidden away from the sun by a large, patterned scarf, as if to hide
in plain sight- however, her bold look and desperate fast walk made her stand out to me.

The spy walked with fervor towards a the colonnade, desperate to remain unseen, but
she failed. I saw her, but I do not think that she saw me. However, the question remains:
why was she there? What business did she have in the Vatican? With the Pope? With
the people of Rome?

Perhaps she was on a mission to steal the keys to the kingdom of Heaven, or perhaps
Saint Peter’s remains? Perhaps an assassination attempt, or perhaps simply on a search
for lost faith?

Whatever her business there was, she was undercover, attempting desperately to blend
in with the crowd of tourists. Immediately, though the look was bold, I could tell they
weren’t your stereotypical American tourist; no brand-name tee shirts, no “jorts”, no
swinging selfie sticks. Instead, she immediately caught my eye with a pair of black &
white intricately patterned leggings, paired with a red sweatshirt, as well as the blue
and red floral headscarf, paired with black socks and navy athletic sandals.

As I watched her, I could tell that though I may never know what exactly she came
to the Vatican for, her business here was done. Scattering a crowd of pigeons with
her steps, before briskly speed-walking through a crowd of tourists towards the exit,
and, without exposing her identity, out of sight.

Giornale #1 - Santa Maria Sopra Minerva

Our trip to Santa Maria Sopra Minerva seemed to me to be a classic exploration of Rome
as a city, happening upon a mix of modern history alongside ancient building casually
along the way. We began wandering from the Porticus of Octavia towards the church,
making a pit stop in the Harry Potter store because we couldn’t refrain, and continuing
onwards towards the church.

A few blocks after that, we passed the Fontana delle Tartarughe, or the Turtle Fountain,
which I later learned was built in the Italian renaissance, around 1580-1588, by the
architect Giacomo della Porta and the sculptor Taddeo Landini, with the bronze turtles
added by either Gian Lorenzo Bernini or Andrea Sacchi around 1658 during restorations
of the fountain. Some historians believe that the turtles are representative of the myth of
Jupiter and Ganymede, as the turtle became a symbol of Jupiter, and the upraised arms
towards the turtle could represent Ganymede being abducted by Jupiter as an eagle, as
that pose is often how he is portrayed in classical art. The fountain really caught my eye,
as it was so artfully created, but so hidden away in a tiny square, and if we hadn’t
accidentally happened upon it, I would’ve never known it existed.

Our next stop, in the Largo di Argentina, was the cat sanctuary. Though they were only
open for another 20 minutes, they allowed us to come in and meet some of the cats. I
learned that not only are they a sanctuary, but an adoption agency as well. Hosting
about 130 cats at the moment, the cats are spayed and neutered, and free to roam
around the ruins and the center itself, and nearly all of them are available for adoption.
Some of the cats, as they are either very old, blind, or have other medical problems,
are not up for adoption, but remain under the care of the facility. I met a cat named
Disturbia who was asleep by the register as Maisie paid for a tote bag, and as I pet
her for the first time I began to miss home a little bit, missing my animals back in
New York. But that homesickness would soon be cured by the beauty of Rome, as
we progressed from the shelter to the church.

Once inside, I had to double check the requirements for this assignment. The church
of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva was definitely not what I expected under the category
of “small church” compared to the small churches of the United States- at home, I’m
sure this would be classified as a massive basilica. Between the many statues,
magnificent portraits of holy figures, and the breathtaking stained glass windows,
I was speechless.

The art on the ceiling caught my eye for quite a while as I stared into the heavenly
portraits of saints in the sky, surrounded by a midnight blue with golden stars. I sat
down on a pew and stared at the ceiling for a while, taking it in. For some reason-
perhaps the stars- it reminded me of the ceiling at Grand Central Station in Manhattan
with its constellations and stars. I think for this reason it confused me, as I had seen it
as a more pagan depiction of the sky, as I saw it closer with astrology than the typical
Catholic portrayal of heaven. Perhaps it was the deeper blue that caught me, as many
of the paintings around the sides of the church and the others that I’ve seen often
represent a heavenly glow unlike the night sky, with baby blues and golden lights shining
down on believers, but the darkness brought me to the night sky, watching the saints float
through like constellations.

Voyeur #1

An unknown figure with an unknown purpose walks across Piazza San Pietro: a spy.
Head tucked down, hidden away from the sun by a large, patterned scarf, as if to hide
in plain sight- however, her bold look and desperate fast walk made her stand out to me.

The spy walked with fervor towards a the colonnade, desperate to remain unseen, but
she failed. I saw her, but I do not think that she saw me. However, the question remains:
why was she there? What business did she have in the Vatican? With the Pope? With
the people of Rome?

Perhaps she was on a mission to steal the keys to the kingdom of Heaven, or perhaps
Saint Peter’s remains? Perhaps an assassination attempt, or perhaps simply on a search
for lost faith?

Whatever her business there was, she was undercover, attempting desperately to blend
in with the crowd of tourists. Immediately, though the look was bold, I could tell they
weren’t your stereotypical American tourist; no brand-name tee shirts, no “jorts”, no
swinging selfie sticks. Instead, she immediately caught my eye with a pair of black &
white intricately patterned leggings, paired with a red sweatshirt, as well as the blue
and red floral headscarf, paired with black socks and navy athletic sandals.

As I watched her, I could tell that though I may never know what exactly she came
to the Vatican for, her business here was done. Scattering a crowd of pigeons with
her steps, before briskly speed-walking through a crowd of tourists towards the exit,
and, without exposing her identity, out of sight.

Momentary Blindness #1

Water from the Fontana del Nettuno rushes in my ear, just a few feet away.
As if out of a movie, I can hear an accordion playing Italian music faintly in the
distance. Just like any tourist destination, a world’s worth of languages flow in
and out of my ears as melodically as the accordion and rushed as the water.

I continue to keep my head down as men, hands jingling with jewelry or selfie
sticks approach me. I can hear them heckling tourists as they pass, their footsteps
shuffling by me along the cobblestones.

A pigeon walks by me, its nails clicking and clacking as it wanders in search of food,
likely smelling the same food from the restaurants around us that I do.

Any other thoughts I have are cut off by a familiar tune- the accordion player gave
up on traditional Italian music, now aiming for a rendition of Hava Nagila; suddenly
I’m 13 years old and at a Bar Mitzvah again. I can feel the melody flowing through
me, nostalgic as ever.

Eventually, I get lost in my thoughts again, and all the noises around me blend
together. The water blends into the background, even the accordion is less noticeable
than before. People’s feet shuffle quieter than before, and even the children laughing
and screaming seem to fade away.

My feet ache as I sit. I don’t realize how much I walk until I’ve already done it, but
fully immersing myself in the sensory experience that is Rome is already worth it
in every way.