A Swirl of Seagulls

[I wrote this post last week, but the internet prevented me from posting, so here it is, a few days late.]
As an Italian language student at the British Institute of Florence, I have access to the British Institute's Library and Cultural Center. The library is located right along the river. Avantieri, I decided to try to find the library and do some studying there before my afternoon classes. I found the address and noticed the plaque with "British Institute: Biblioteca," but did not ring the bell since the heavy metal door was left ajar. I climbed to the second floor, walked over a "skybridge" through the courtyard and then found a long hallway of very old looking books behind glass panels. I continued through to a bright and open room with canary yellow armchairs. The back wall was lined with picture windows, carefully framing the beautiful view of the Arno. I will bring my camera with me when I return, soon, and take pictures of this scene. At the round reception desk was a white-haired man wearing glasses with black plastic frames that were too big and therefore just right for his face. He smiled at me which was nice because even though I knew I was allowed in the building, I still felt like a bit of a trespasser. In one of the yellow chairs a man in maroon corduroy pants hid his face behind a black and white curtain, a copy of the Repubblica newspaper. I walked towards the sunny windows and looked out over the river and the other side of the city. Standing at that window, I felt a sense of belonging in this foreign city. I was inside, looking out. I had snuck through an open door and found a secret hiding place.

I continued to explore and found a room filled with dictionaries. My fingers pranced across the fabric and gold-threaded spines. I found a few English language books and an Italian etymological dictionary and found a small desk to sit at. I read the first five cantos in Dante's Inferno, first in Italian for rhyme and mood and then in English for confirmation of comprehension, and then did my Italian grammar exercises for the day. After completing my assignments, I moved on to An Exaltation of Larks, written by James Lipton, yes the guy from "Inside the Actor's Studio." It's a compleation of "terms of venery," the most common being school of fish, pride of lions, ect. They come from the book of St. Albans. I copied a long list into my notebook for future use, but more importantly this type of classification encouraged a new type of thinking.

After this visit, I no longer feel my time can be wasted here in Florence. Sure there are libraries elsewhere--but these thoughts can only be written right here, right now, on this blog, because I found that library, and that room, that shelf, and that book. I'm no clairvoyant,but I think something is coming, some line of thinking or writing that can only be cultivated here in Tuscany.

I walked out of the library and faced the Arno and the procession of bridges. Under Ponte Santa Trinita I imaged*, named, and watched a swirl of seagulls.

*This is not a typo, although this blog contains many typos, which I hope you can read through as proofreading is perhaps one way I could waste time here in Florence.