Sic memorans, largo fletu simul ora rigabat. Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum, ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.
He spoke, weeping, tears streaming down his face. Three times there he tried to throw his arms around his father’s neck, three times in vain; the image, grasped, escaped from his hands, like a breeze and very similar to a swift dream.
In Book II, Aeneas sees his dead wife, and Virgil describes his efforts in the same way: “Ter conatus ibi collo dare bracchia circum: ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago, par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.” Dante, in Canto II of the Inferno plays on this as well when he sees his dead friend and when he embraces him, “Three times I locked my hands behind his back, as many times I came back to my breast.” Often, when I attempt intimacy or gestures of affection, it feels this way. Is the other a dream, or am I the ghost?
Tenth Day: Would You Please Please Please Please Please Please Please Stop Talking
Roger Valdez 