Momentary Blindness: Part Two ~En Rome~

The battle between the overpowering scent of pine in rain and the subtle strength of blossoming oranges was the first thing to greet me as I settled down on the Aventine. These smells, both amplified by the moisture in the air, remained a constant through my time there making it easy to imagine being in a forest and not a city. The humidity and weight of the air brought me home to the swamp that is Washington in the summer making me feel at ease in this foreign space. However, the other things around me kept me grounded within the walls of Rome. Namely the sound. The distant sound of heavy traffic and blaring taxi horns. While around me the gravel enlarged each sound making the simple footsteps of the families let me know exactly where they were. The raking of the gravel provided an undertone to the wandering groups and families as children ran on the paths and adults strolled with their suitcases creating a hypnotic melody. However, incrementally I was torn from this peace as the strong gusts of cold air on the top of the hill rustled the trees and sent a startling cascade of water down upon me. The drops obscuring my ink, falling on my hand and head, and, most obtrusively, finding their way down my neck to glide down my back leaving a trail of cold that caused me to shiver. Still, each time I left this sensation I was greeted by Rome again in the form of the chattering Italian parents calling to each other and their children as a man I had previously noticed with a brown paper bag droned on and on shouting in an unidentified language.

Aventine Hill
5/27/19