08-21-2020, 01:32 PM
When Philip decreed a conversation, no matter how trivial, was concluded, all parties swiftly departed whether they liked it or not. He should leave, but closure was a narrow door he couldn’t bring himself to lock. Self-reflection was the pillar of his identity, but the inspection was always intrinsically motivated. To be pushed into the realm unwittingly cramped a vice on his soul that he wanted nothing more than to escape. Was he uncomfortable? Hardly. What happened? She could hardly look him in the eye. He made every effort to ease the looming mountain that was the Church to find her, waiting in a small sanctuary, pacing prosaic gardens. Was it him that spiked fear? Or was glimpsing the Lord overwhelming? Philip hung his head, shaking it quietly. He had no answers, but this time, the questions were not beautiful.
He should wake. Burdens awaited and the dream was hardly a respite from duty.
Instead, his hands slipped into the pockets of the cashmere jacket and he shuffled forward into the woods, away from the water. As he moved, he spoke, although he wasn’t sure if Nimeda could hear him. “You’re wrong about not having a home. Ubi bene, ibi patria,” the Latin resonated like distant thunder when uttered by Philip’s tongue. “The water, in all its lovely forms, is your home.”
*Ubi bene, ibi patria
It is a saying or Latin sentence, result from abbreviation of verse of tragedy “Teucer”, of Pacuvius, which Cicero quotes in Tusculans, 5,37,108.
“In the last place, the case of those who refer the objects which they pursue in life to the standard of pleasure presents no difficulty, since wherever these objects can be supplied, they can live happily. Thus to every case Teucer's words are applicable: ' Where it is well with me, there is my country.’"
He should wake. Burdens awaited and the dream was hardly a respite from duty.
Instead, his hands slipped into the pockets of the cashmere jacket and he shuffled forward into the woods, away from the water. As he moved, he spoke, although he wasn’t sure if Nimeda could hear him. “You’re wrong about not having a home. Ubi bene, ibi patria,” the Latin resonated like distant thunder when uttered by Philip’s tongue. “The water, in all its lovely forms, is your home.”
*Ubi bene, ibi patria
It is a saying or Latin sentence, result from abbreviation of verse of tragedy “Teucer”, of Pacuvius, which Cicero quotes in Tusculans, 5,37,108.
“In the last place, the case of those who refer the objects which they pursue in life to the standard of pleasure presents no difficulty, since wherever these objects can be supplied, they can live happily. Thus to every case Teucer's words are applicable: ' Where it is well with me, there is my country.’"
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