‘The Piazza’ was inspired by Herman Melville’s 1856 short story. You can find the text here and in several editions of his collected works.


The first time I looked out of this window, I said ‘never, never shall I weary of this’. Standing o’er a moss lined precipice – looking down to the depths below – living in the shadows of crown-shaped peaks.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, the specter of a troubling night fades and reveals landscapes I never knew existed. Rolling hills, grape-vine lined fences. Entrenched in Marianna’s hof, Looking upon my own abode, I knew then that what I had was important to her. Little did I know how important it would be to me. Arms akimbo, surveying the blessed hue of the skyline, this panoramic majesty reminded me of home. The journey had taken its toll and weighed in heavily.

Home appears where I stand; always has, always will.
Staying still -muscles spent – atrophied. It’s ok, now it’s time to let go – these motions are what makes us whole. Holding tight, trembling with baited breath, life is there, waiting to be discovered… and better yet, lived by the will to be endured.

A piazza must be had, splendors vivid beyond compare, all within my grasp. Pointing inward, I reflect upon what matters most: I’m home.

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