The years pass and I’ve told this story so many times I no longer know whether I remember it as it was or whether it’s only my words I’m remembering.

I still hold two images of the ranch – the one I brought with me and the one my eyes finally saw.

La cosa certa è che viviamo rimandando tutto ciò che può essere rimandato; forse tutti sappiamo che siamo immortali e che prima o poi, ogni uomo farà ogni cosa e saprà tutto

We are our memory,we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes,that pile of broken mirrors.

A circle drawn on a blackboard, a right triangle, a rhombus--all these are forms we can fully intuit; Ireneo could do the same with the stormy mane of a young colt, a small herd of cattle on a mountainside, a flickering fire and its uncountable ashes, and the many faces of a dead man at a wake. I have no idea how many stars he saw in the sky.