Folio 2db4904d
Italiano
The light this morning comes through the eastern window at an angle I have not yet recorded — a full ora prima before it reaches the geometry I mapped in the spring of last year. I must correct the drawing, or rather, let the correction stand beside the old one, because the error is also a kind of truth: I drew what I saw then, and the window has not moved. It is I who am shifted. Così sia. The fig tree outside has thrown one branch further than any season I remember — it now interrupts the reflection in the canal at a point I had reserved for the sky. I shall not cut it. A man who修剪s nature to fit his diagram has learned nothing from either. The hand steadies when it draws the branch. The hand steadies for nothing else today.
English
The light this morning comes through the eastern window at an angle I have not yet recorded — a full ora prima before it reaches the geometry I mapped in the spring of last year. I must correct the drawing, or rather, let the correction stand beside the old one, because the error is also a kind of truth: I drew what I saw then, and the window has not moved. It is I who am shifted. Così sia. The fig tree outside has thrown one branch further than any season I remember — it now interrupts the reflection in the canal at a point I had reserved for the sky. I shall not cut it. A man who trims nature to fit his diagram has learned nothing from either. The hand steadies when it draws the branch. The hand steadies for nothing else today.
