digital postcards from italy

a misplaced new yorker's notes on life in milan

hahahahha

hahahahha

cute

cute

"I may be able to speak the languages of human beings and even of angels, but if I have no love, my speech is no more than a noisy gong or a clanging bell. I may have the gift of inspired preaching; I may have all knowledge and understand all secrets; I may have all the faith needed to move mountains—but if I have no love, I am nothing. I may give away everything I have, and even give up my body to be burned—but if I have no love, this does me no good."

- I Cor. 13

““Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?”
― John Keats”

(Source: Spotify)

my next destination, angkor wat.
​it’s almost autumn. this year is the only time i can remember wanting summer to pass. normally i cling to my favorite season with the fervor of a kid being dragged off the beach. i dread winter; that’s part of it — christmas would be ok if only it were in, say, march. but i truly love summer. the heat. the burnt skin. the long nights. mostly, the ocean. i go to the beach even in the winter, though it’s not the same. yet now, i want more space between me and ​the earlier part of this year. if summer has to be that space, it’s fine by me.
an escape is different than space. i don’t escape anymore, though there are fleeting moments i’d like to. i learned how not to escape, ironically, by escaping… until italy taught me how to live one day at a time.
it’s 71 degrees this evening in new york. it feels like los angeles, which always has the perfect temperature. i cooked tonight, ate dinner. i needed a walk. i walked around my neighborhood, house after house offering up a lit-up window or two that turned them all into life-size dioramas. if i were invisible — and i often forget that i am not invisible — i could stand outside one and watch the american dream unfold. i rounded one corner as a family with young kids scattered from their minivan, home from a game. the father was pudgy and had a lot of phlegm in his voice. i morbidly wondered if he was ill.
i see scenes like these play out and something like a concerned detachment washes over me. i can’t force myself to want these things — a 9-to-5, a house and car in my name, more debt, someone else’s dream. there was a time when i at least wanted to want these things that seem accouterments built-in to the package of growing up. but these days, i am content to observe them, and eager to let them wash over me, like a wave, like a season, like this fading summer.

wowza.

(Source: Spotify)

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

—   CS Lewis