6/27/2023 0 Comments Carved in Stone by John A. CowgillI vincoli can be translated as constraints, bonds, ties, links. Your face is swollen from the treatment and your head fantastically stitched together as you sit on the edge of the sofa, all attention, all wrapped in chains of attention. Martino, it is evening and raining in London, and I am making tea and we don’t say that we both know it’s the last time we will meet. Is a single white marble, translucent with a turquoise wave breaking within it, attention is that marble bouncing wildly down the alley and reaching the top of the steps by the bar I met you at in Monti, Martino, to sit out the evenings drinking on those steps, where all the treads are bowed in the middle by millennia of pilgrims heading up to San Pietro in Vincoli, to seek forgiveness, to bow their heads, to ask some questions of themselves in a place attention is a single block of white Carrara marble carved by Michelangelo into the statue of Moses we stood before, stoned, wondering why he’d horns, and attention to the style of things is a quality worn, Martino, by you around Hoxton or Testaccio like a purple boiler suit, which you also wore, and attention is that single white marble now descending the stone steps by the bar, rolling along the depth of one tread and dropping, then rolling the depth of another, and dropping, and the next, dropping and rolling, dropping and rolling, not silently, until the single white marble, translucent with a turquoise wave, hits the pavement and skitters onto the cobbles to wedge, pearl-like, beneath the tyre of a Vespa.
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