At night, the lights are magical. Not quite as surreal as the fireflies, but close. During the day I do my laps, religiously, surrounded by the goddesses and Jesus and Buddha. Surrounded by the Sacred and the Profane.
It’s not heated like the pools I grew up swimming in, on our block, in my youth. No, it’s not like those pools in Magnolia, next to the city of Seattle, no, this pool feels au natural, its refreshing and located in the middle of nowhere in a place called Piemonte. The Italian sun has worked its magic. But the luxury, the paradise can feel fleeting. I won’t live here forever.
Like the fireflies, the fantasy is here, for a season. As I do my laps I listen to Gore Vidal and his essays, or I just listen to the wind. When I feel lifeless and focus on that feeling I am a dancer and think of Diaghilev.
I think of Diaghilev, the famous Russian maestro who brought the East to the West through ballet. He created the theater of astonishment, back when we used to astonish one another in the most pleasurable way.
I think of Diaghilev and his Ballet Russe. Where the score might be by Stravinsky, the decor by Picasso, the costumes by Chanel, the libretto by Cocteau and there’s Nijinsky leaping through the window. He has astonished the audience, and then he is gone.
Life is so fleeting and we must have our fantasy….