Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate
I'm painting poetry on my bedroom wall. I'm either a teenager or a coffee shop; so I'm going with the latter. There are a bunch of reasons for this - some of which revolve around the fact that I'm really not, inherently, a visual person. For me text is so much more evocative than pictures. But also because I have such viscerally positive reactions to text, which I think is inherently beautiful. But I've been thinking about wanting something above the door to my bedroom, and I keep coming back to Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here.
Only that's deeply not actually what I want to say to someone coming into my room! (Or even myself after a long day) But a) it's obvious and b) it's amusing on a oh lord, teenage visions of profundity level. But while it might have felt resonant as a teenager, it no longer really does. So what do I put there?
It has to be short - which is a point in Dante's favour. I actually spent a while this morning rereading the beginnings of Paradiso and Purgatorio to see if there were anything that felt right from them, but a) Inferno was so much catchier and b) it wouldn't be recognisable even if it were?
So then I was listening to Alpha Rev's, Sing Loud on the way to work, and contemplating:
Put down the knife you're wielding/Let high stone walls fall away/With gentle time will be an ending/(And I'll be here till the colors fade/And I'll be here till your dying day)
The parentheticals being potentially cut.
But oh lord, somehow painting poetry on my walls feels....marginally less like a teenager than song lyrics?
Reclaiming: (v) I scrawl across my white walls in bright colours so I don't tattoo "mine" on my body.
Only that's deeply not actually what I want to say to someone coming into my room! (Or even myself after a long day) But a) it's obvious and b) it's amusing on a oh lord, teenage visions of profundity level. But while it might have felt resonant as a teenager, it no longer really does. So what do I put there?
It has to be short - which is a point in Dante's favour. I actually spent a while this morning rereading the beginnings of Paradiso and Purgatorio to see if there were anything that felt right from them, but a) Inferno was so much catchier and b) it wouldn't be recognisable even if it were?
So then I was listening to Alpha Rev's, Sing Loud on the way to work, and contemplating:
Put down the knife you're wielding/Let high stone walls fall away/With gentle time will be an ending/(And I'll be here till the colors fade/And I'll be here till your dying day)
The parentheticals being potentially cut.
But oh lord, somehow painting poetry on my walls feels....marginally less like a teenager than song lyrics?
Reclaiming: (v) I scrawl across my white walls in bright colours so I don't tattoo "mine" on my body.