May 12

Think Statue of Liberty, patinas and acetic acid, saltwater, wear and ruin. Think Greece (vert-de-Grèce), Old French (verte grez), Middle English (vertegrez), in that order. Think of evolution, how we see, and modern French vert-de-gris (“green of grey”).

I think of crusts and crackling, like Dutch crunch bread, and of knights and nobles, copper plates and cow dung. Things look different – green, odd – under the blue glow of running lights, but after they surface to the stage they glitter with an unnatural vibrancy. People handle the liquid hour before a performance differently, and there is a certain magic in seeing the magic undone when the threshold between stage and backstage is crossed. The stagehands and stage doors remind me of Charon and the River Styx, only this time Orpheus was successful in escaping back to the land of the living, lyre in tow, handkerchief (for the sweat) tucked in his breast pocket.

look: Margravial Opera House
listen: Beethoven, Symphony No. 8 in F major, Op. 93
read: Maggie Nelson, Bluets