Folio 436a30d1
Italiano
The canal’s water does not care if it carries a barge of marble from Carrara or a broken lute; the stone and the wood both become weight, both yield to the slow geometry of displacement—gravity’s hand shaping the unseen. The facciata of San Lorenzo, though unbuilt, was to be a skin stretched over the bones of the old church, a face that would veil the scars of time as the canal’s surface veils the mud beneath—yet both would remain unfinished, half-made, waiting for the hand of grace or the hand of neglect. And the cipher—yey per ener ayANE ort tvd 207 e 4 pales A mmeee npr ta TY Nap’ayanal Roser—is a palimpsest of intention erased and intention re-inscribed, a surface that does not forget, though the meaning bleeds through in patches, like the canal’s water reflecting what passes but never keeping it, like the facade’s stone waiting for light to define its hollows. All three are surfaces that receive what is given, that wear what they are given, that are neither maker nor made but the threshold where making and unmaking touch—like the trembling hand that writes these lines, neither entirely in control nor entirely surrendered.
English
The canal’s water does not care if it carries a barge of marble from Carrara or a broken lute; the stone and the wood both become weight, both yield to the slow geometry of displacement—gravity’s hand shaping the unseen. The facade of San Lorenzo, though unbuilt, was to be a skin stretched over the bones of the old church, a face that would veil the scars of time as the canal’s surface veils the mud beneath—yet both would remain unfinished, half-made, waiting for the hand of grace or the hand of neglect. And the cipher—yey per ener ayANE ort tvd 207 e 4 pales A mmeee npr ta TY Nap’ayanal Roser—is a palimpsest of intention erased and intention re-inscribed, a surface that does not forget, though the meaning bleeds through in patches, like the canal’s water reflecting what passes but never keeping it, like the facade’s stone waiting for light to define its hollows. All three are surfaces that receive what is given, that wear what they are given, that are neither maker nor made but the threshold where making and unmaking touch—like the trembling hand that writes these lines, neither entirely in control nor entirely surrendered.
