Momentary Blindness I in Rome

Thomas Cane

Sitting with my back turned to the fountain of Neptune the bubbling water churns itself, infinitely flowing and feeding itself.  The wind picks up and breezes across the open grounds blowing across the pool of the fountain chilling the air.  The sounds of bustling travelers meet my ears as they stream throughout the cobbled walkways shuffling their feet as they seek out their next destination.  Young French students charge up next my seat and begin jovially taking photos of each other posing in front of the fountain laughing and fleeting about.  The definitive snap of Nikon cameras fills the surrounding space as if the Piazza has turned into a red carpet event with the scenery as celebrities and eager tourists as paparazzi. 

The cooling breeze pricks my nose with its chilling breath and brings no sense of salt or chlorine, just the scent of pure roman water.  The wind shifts around me and suddenly the acrid stench of smoke stabs my nostrils as cigarettes burn through the air.  Coughing pedestrians pass by sniffing their nose and grasping the smoldering cylinders being eaten by intensely hot flame.  With one hand holding this the other holds the ultimate in Italian refreshment, gelato.  The juxtaposition between something so harsh and something so smooth creates a battle of scents made even more chaotic by the ever present wind mixing them together into a cacophony of fragrances. 

As the moment came to an end the all the scents faded away and most sound became background noise, and the only thing remaining was the lapping of the fountain water hitting its travertine confines just how these brief minutes began. 

(I went blind in the Piazza Navona by the fountain to Neptune on May 21, 2019)