“and paths are strange /To him, that are your paths, in the wilderness,/
And were your fathers’ paths, and once were mine.” Donald Davidson
Here we are in Rome, walking the paths of our fathers; our fathers in faith and our fathers in thought. The paths in Rome are old and wind in unpredictable ways. Around every corner is something unexpected ( a church perhaps or an open air market) or something familiar ( a wine shop or bakery). The tangles that are the streets suddenly open up before you into a piazza full of sunshine, or rain as the case may be. This is where we will be reading, writing, thinking, and discussing. This is our home for the next three months.
Hello!
