Momentary Blindness II - Roma

The saturated wood beneath seeps through and dampens my pants while muggy air coats my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in its trail. Water heightens the aroma of fresh plants, wood, and life. Every inhale is treated with a hint of citrus that leaks from blossoms of orange and escalates with each gust of wind. Quiet and serene as if you have escaped the urban world, hearing nothing but nature’s gifts. Birds of all kinds gather around the park conversing and singing their unique songs. A mass abundance of shade is provided by large broccoli shaped trees that create a canopy overhead. Moments come and go where the sun is finally able to break through. It lights my page in asymmetrical shapes and stripes and caresses my skin as if stepping into a warm shower. The droplets that continue to fall off my leafy roof drip sporadically onto my skin, contradicting my warm shower fantasy. My breathing softens and is rhythmed by the plopping of water into small puddles. In time these puddles grow, and the droplets change character. I am able to detect what the water is falling on through its plummet and ultimate splattered demise. Everything near is a target; trash cans, the ground, the benches, the people, and most frustratingly, my notebook. No pattern of spillage can be detected to prevent such incidents but luckily each drop is few and far between. One hits the top left corner nearly missing my hand. Creating such an insignificant splatter, it spreads across my symbols of ink and absorbs into nothing.

(Aventine Hill, 5/27/19)