there used to be a time in my life when I could just walk out of my apartment building with marble floors to a holey street made of asphalt. for forty meters I would walk uphill from the huge front door, then turn right and walk until the end of that street, say 100 meters, to the bottom of 90 stairs. that street was called via glorioso, and I have to admit that those moments on the steps were always glorious, given the view over the roofs of rome.
usually I climbed up there at night, for being unable to sleep and just wanting to be somewhere under the stars, smoking and wishing for a miracle. now, here, I'm like a caged animal. as far as I have observed, it has not stopped snowing for four days, during which I've gone out only once just to buy warming red wine from the alko across the street. I have by now learned, that the winter cannot be healed, not even with votka.
in short, there's no option for a place under the stars to meditate in.
in short, there's no option for a place under the stars to meditate in.
