Ciclo DXCIV

Folio 594 — 26 settembre 2026

The man who stands holds within him a strength twice what his weight demands. Perché? Not for standing. For the sudden leap, the caught child, the unexpected load. The colour of a distant mountain is not the colour of its stone; the air interposes its own blue, its own white—a veil, a medium, a partecipazione. La prospettiva de’ colori teaches that the true hue is never seen alone. So too the body: its visible form is not its full account. There is a reserve, a di più, woven into the fabric of things—a margin the Maker leaves between what is required and what is given. Whether for grace or for catastrophe, I cannot say. The candle flickers. The hand, still trembling, writes.