The artfully hidden subtext in those first years was that foreign travel was worth every discomfort and foul-up, but took a radical toll on the spirit.
It only takes Rome about ten minutes to make you forget you have ever been anywhere else on earth. In Rome, every step you take has been taken by a caesar, a pope, or a barbarian before you. Every step carries you over a dozen civilizations, layered like shirts in a drawer.
For me memory was the country of the usable past but now I began to wonder if there was not also a danger to unrememberance. I had recently become acutely aware that mistranslations, mistakes of emphasis, and the inevitability of a flawed interpretation could lead to an imperfect view of things.
Think on that :)
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