The Profound Lagh de Còmm.


Meet me where the sky touches the sea.

Strolling the sidewalks of Como I found the above phrase as I wandered along, taking in the uplifting atmosphere that played out so lively around me. Many where the Americans who shared an accent similar to my own. They where on vacation, chatting in the presence of pizza, and/or a glass of wine. I know they must have felt the same as me, so fortunate to be in such a place; on vacation. The sky glistened as the lake mirrored. Running into the woman whoes shirt had such phrase printed across. She did not noticed me, and will never know how her shirt touched me with a sense of hope. A hope that was not limited to a single context. Watching the tourists, the Americans. I could not help wonder if they could recognize me as their similar. I wanted to tell them that I am one of them too. I knew they could not unless they heard me talk.

Though we eat little flesh and drink no wine,
Yet let’s be merry; we’ll have tea and toast;
Custards for supper, and an endless host
Of syllabubs and jellies and mincepies,
And other such ladylike luxuries.
― Percy Bysshe Shelley

The acclaimed, and well-known Lago Di Como is a popular vacation home of the rich, and the elite. Despite this fact, I found the place to be rather humble compared to what one could imagine. Filled with generous amounts of restaurants, stores, and hotels for all budgets. I enjoyed snacking on an apple at the pace of a dazed gait as I observed inside the shops’ windows of the many boutiques. Lake Como is the third largest lake of Italy, being deep at 1,300 feet it is considered one of the most deepest of Europe. The lake whoes shape resembles the greek letter lambda (a upside down letter y), resides in a pre-alpine territory called the Larian Triangle within the Italian region of Lombardy. The letter lambda is the 11th letter of the Greek alphabet.

It is impossible to not feel like a poet, as a person find themselfves looking at the boats parked on the surface of that bed of water. A boat, in which within my inner workings represents a symbol of yearning. Many poets where said to have passed by the town of Como. Like that of the young, intellectual, rebel of Percy Bysshe Shelley. Shelley inspired by the idealisim of “The Age of Reason”, and a fine Romantic true in his ways. Durring a fugo d’amore along with Mary Wollstonecraft, the author of Frankestein, they fell so much in-love with the place. Both desired to make it their permanent residence, even if it did not ended in that way. Anyways, who could blame them for loving Como very much! Even Luigi Pirandello, the Italian writer, and dramaturge passed by Lake Como, making it the scene of his tormented love for the exceedingly younger actress Marta Abba.

“La solitudine non è mai con voi; è sempre senza di voi, e soltanto possibile con un estraneo attorno: luogo o persona che sia, che del tutto vi ignorino, che del tutto voi ignoriate, così che la vostra volontà e il vostro sentimento restino sospesi e smarriti in un’incertezza angosciosa e, cessando ogni affermazione di voi, cessi l’intimità stessa della vostra coscienza. La vera solitudine è in un luogo che vive per sé e che per voi non ha traccia né voce, e dove dunque l’estraneo siete voi” 
― Luigi Pirandello

I loved Como. I will be back again to visit to get a closer peak of its many treasures to type about. In the meantime I will leave this post as it is, for it is really late in this part of the globe.

Have you ever visited? Let me know in the comments!

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