Connection and separation of people happens over and over again. It’s inevitable. So, in the end, I am on my own. With a book, I can meet people and know them and not feel the need to forget them. I don’t feel guilt for caring, for despising, for enjoying who they are for as long as I want. What’s more is I can always go back to remind myself of their stories, their lives, their characters. I don’t have to worry about abandonment. Books swoop in and pick me up where I am. They hold me and hug me and don’t care who I am or what state of mind I’m in. I wonder if books ever know what they give to me? Do they relax when they are picked up? Do they peer at their readers with admiration? Do they know how much I rely on their words?
I just finished If This is a Man by Primo Levi and I am now reading the sequel, The Truce. It’s impossible to read these books without questioning humanity and the meaning of life. They are deep and dark books that have me asking question after question about the soul of a human. It’s not simple, rather it is complex, but that’s nothing new. However, it’s a different kind of complexity. The Holocaust is a test that never should have been run. It doesn’t end, because it started and happened and something that happens never disappears no matter the situation. That’s why even if I block out the lower moments of my life, they still impact me in my mind in the diamond boxes I never open. The moments come out and they transfer but never disappear like energy; although created they can never be destroyed.
Adventuring in Siena with my camera was the perfect choice. It had history and children. The kids running across the plaza outside the bell tower throwing paper confetti everywhere, biking, chasing pigeons, and playing soccer were enough to start to thaw a frozen heart. Although the idea of a human heart thawing is a bit unnerving, I imagine it’s beautiful. We climbed hundreds of stairs and tens of hills to see beauty and joy, but more than that, vast expanses if detailed architecture. Art seems to brew from the rooftops and fall from the sky. It is inescapable and suffocating, brilliant and pointed. If I had not a spiritual bone in my body, I would still be drawn to view with hunger the crippling beauty of the religious cathedrals.
Spending time in this way has slowly opened my eyes to the perception and understanding of humanity once again. I can’t get away from thinking that we are all in danger of losing ourselves and finding ourselves in the highest highs and lowest lows. It has become more and more so my opinion that we are not in charge of our happiness and the universe does not give back.
Ciao!
~Analise
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