sometimes visitors to the villa are surprised by the constant and obvious sounds of traffic on autostrada A15, the motorway that is close by.
sometimes surprised and actually bothered, since they had this romantic “under the tuscan sun” image of my italian villa – set apart from any distractions, a quiet oasis.
for six years, i lived that way in washington state, the dream of many. on a beautifully secluded five acres on hood canal, deep in the forest. in the very hushed forest.
from my perspective, however, the silence felt deafening. as if it was literally pressing in on me, crushing my very soul.
so for me (though many may not agree), this bustling autostrada is vital. it’s comfort and freedom and security all wrapped up into one. it’s a guarantee that i’m witnessing the advancement of industry, the workings of innovation, the tempo of humanity.
the heartbeat of civilization.
it’s the reassurance that, despite any personal setback or tragedy, the world really does always move on.
this was never so clear as during the pandemic lockdown, when eric and i would sit on our terrace, listening to the eerie and unwelcome silence, waiting for normalcy to return. here is a passage i wrote during that time:
๐ช ๐ฉ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ญ๐ธ๐ข๐บ๐ด ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ช๐ต๐ช๐ฆ๐ด
๐ช ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ช๐ต๐ข๐ญ๐บ
๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ช ๐ฅ๐ฐ ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ถ๐ด๐บ ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ข๐ฅ
๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ถ๐ต๐ฐ๐ด๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ฅ๐ข ๐ค๐ญ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐บ
๐ช ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ด๐ต ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฃ๐ญ๐บ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฏโ๐ต ๐ข๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ
๐ฃ๐ถ๐ต ๐ช ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ง๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ณ๐ข๐ง๐ง๐ช๐ค ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ช๐ด๐ฆ
๐ช ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ง๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ข๐ค๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ญ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ช๐ค ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ต
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ข๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต ๐ง๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ด๐ช๐น ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐จ ๐บ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ด
๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ช๐ตโ๐ด ๐ด๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ข๐จ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ช ๐ฉ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต
๐ฎ๐บ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ค๐ช๐ท๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ป๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ
๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต
but eventually the lockdown(s) ended and things got back to the way they were. and now – though new windows in the bedrooms do a good job of muffling the sound for guests – i know that beyond those italian shutters, the beat goes on.
