VIOLA
Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out ‘Olivia!’ O, You should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,
But you should pity me!

OLIVIA
You might do much…

For whatever reason, perhaps because of Viola’s “you should not rest/between the elements of air and earth,” perhaps because of the single-minded obsession of the lover she describes, which is exactly how I feel about the chorus, how I feel about most things I pursue in my work or my life, these lines have never been out of my head, this entire year. I post them here, in the hopes of moving beyond them. They are beautiful, but very dangerous. Viola might do much, but she might undo herself in doing it. Spoken like someone (like me) who needs to, as Frodo yells to the Hobbits, “Get off the road! Now!” A break, however brief. A rest. A respite.

But nothing makes the gods laugh like making plans: and I plan for less travel, knowing in my bones that you can’t really ever get off the road once you get on it.