After struggling mightily with the wifi over my last post, I was entranced by the light of the waning gibbous moon reflecting off the lake below and filtering in through the shutters. On a whim, I snagged the blanket off my bed and a pillow and dragged them onto the balcony. I fell asleep staring into million-year-old light emanating from distant galleries, surrounded by currents: deep and lazy in the lake below, soft and cool in the air around me, ancient and mysterious in the fluidity of time and the present moment. I dreamt in hazy, nebulous impressions of the vast motion and interconnection of the universe, and felt myself a minuscule cog in that cosmic machinery.
I awoke to an unfulfilled promise of sunrise over the Alps, stiff and slightly chilled. Later that day, we went paddleboarding on the lake, battling choppy water and a stiff headwind. Due to some acoustic anomaly the wind shrieked and howled like a banshee giving birth at times, but underneath the surface of the lake was a different story. The water is a lovely combination of glacial blue and the green of algae, 410 meters at its deepest. The pull of the mysterious depths is countered, just barely, by the shafts of sunlight wavering through the paler blue water above, and I felt suspended between two worlds, mesmerized as minute particles swirled around me, immune to the wind-whipped motion of the surface.
The natural beauty of Lake Como is stunning, and though I am no longer there, I feel the draw of the mountains and the water. (One thing I won’t miss, however, is nature invading the house – ants everywhere!)
But for now, on to our next, more urban adventure – stay tuned for Turin!