Sunday the 13th
Trastevere—the accent is on the second syllable, the word means across the tiber. We traveled through the park yesterday wanting a dirt bike.
Today we learn we can buy them at the flea market by the tiber so we rush out down the hill past via garibaldi and onto a series of stairs dirty dusty unmarked to find it. We travel down past underpants and bath mats made of plastic, fake leather raincoats and a couple of antique—brass bells and half mirrors, floral dresses and tiered plastic stackables. We reach the end and return but not before visiting Spaniards warn us to place our backpack in front.
Then we walk along the Tiber pee discretely into the grass with M facing the occasional Sunday fishermen hooking lines in the dirty tiber blocking their view of my squat.
Feeling much better we walk on see a couple embrace.
Onto the churches : the magnificent scultpture of st Cecilia bound in ropes presumably her body exhumed whole, her head removed and her crying out—singing for three days in pain—thus the patron of musicians. Strange logic of those catholic gods or rather the idea of god itself stupid for the humans who wish to be protected outside their own sensibilities. I too fall for the superstitions and dices the gods and wishes the wonders and lusts
We see three paintings, two of which are by Guido reni and I can’t tell which two! Since all three resemble his style.
And miss the fantastic frescos since the timing is not right.
The nuns are teaching others or correcting them and do not pause for us. 12:30 was the cut off time and I will need return.
We cross more streets beautiful doors and windows and roof gardens and the color pink and tan and orange and yellow. The mosaics in the floor are magnificient, rough and humble shaded and florid. Perhaps just dirty with time but flavored magnificence scumbled layered.
More roads and by ways and another church with roman columns out of scale marble with mosaics on the top exterior and then along the apex, music accompaninment out of a canned recording! The lights suddenly go out and we are left dreaming. I light a candle to my film.
Then through more markets and little pizza stands and dusty bars and watching mostly tourists eat since Italians would be home witht heir families at this hour on this day.
We find the steps we sidestep rain and sun—the beauty of this city mild colorful magnificent—and climb clearly up easily simply home to the 30 foot heroic space where I will make the best film of my life yes!