I am thinking tonight of walking in the Garbatella, after dinner, back on that trip to Italy. This is a place on the far side of the world from the bed that holds me tonight. I am thinking of the comfortable quiet, of the feeling of the cobbles beneath my feet, and how much safer I felt there than I ever do when I stroll here.
It is all a trick of the mind. It is a story told and told and told again. It is not a truth that we could not tolerate the movements we have always tolerated. It is not a truth that the stairs will rubberize and our bones will shudder and our muscles give up when we step towards its elevation. The things we say to terrify ourselves.
Another day, another fish needs frying.