Sitting on the balcony, the book on my knees, the eyes closed. In the seventh chapter, Don DeLillo talks about the theory of time. He wonders what we could learn if only we’d drive the curiosity beyond the quantum, which is billion times smaller than the old Greek atom. I don’t know why but this made me think of a song that said something like this: “..mermaids chant was too low to obfuscate Ulysses’ shout which already blew through the sails”.
In the same hours, in Rome, a couple of living popes were canonizing a couple of dead popes.
We all are time travelers.. aren’t we? This took my thought to Folon’s men. They look steady but ready to go.
I think too much.