The last time I saw them? Ten years ago. I remember being moved by the paintings. CRUCIFIXION OF ST. PETER made it into a poem I wrote about a homeless man who lived in his car on the farm for a few weeks when I was a boy. Grimy, bearded, crucified, it seemed to me, by the world. Something about a fire. All his possessions gone. He left his Bible behind. Christ’s words in red. But I was too young the last time I was in Rome. I hadn’t lost enough to feel gratitude for what I still have — my vision, whatever it is about me that makes me want to collaborate with the world rather than just live in it (though to live in it is more than enough). I remember paying to light the paintings up, and how ravenously I looked. I liked that you had to pay, and how there was a limit to how long you could look until you had to pay more. But I don’t remember much more than that. So I’ve come back.
Santa Maria del Popolo one of my favorite churches in Rome🔥