Witch Mountain

Today, while waiting for my ex-wife to come by to pick up some things for our daughter for a play date, I was waiting in the foyer of my apartment complex, and I was leaning my arm against the wall, stretching it out as I had come from a good swim earlier and I was starting to feel the muscles talk to me.

I was almost taken aback about how smooth and cool it was. Not that this was the first time I have touched marble of course, but it was just a jolt of consciousness to suddenly feel that surface, and it felt good to be pressing my arm against it.

I was then reminded of three marble things that have made the most impression in my life. One of them was the sheer amount of marble that the Taj Mahal is made of, so much that it is staggering to comprehend. The second are the statues of Bernini, which if you have ever seen them in real life, you would swear that they are soft and malleable if you touched them.

The big one though, was not the product, but the source. One of the eeriest places I have been in is Carrara marble quarries of Northern Tuscany. It is a haunting feeling to drive up this mountain that is a sheer cliff of un-mined marble. Not only is the looming façade of marble daunting, it is the ethereal white dust everywhere in the air from the extraction tools of the rock. I just remember driving up in near silence, as if we were going to the castle of some White Witch or Elven palace high up in the mountains, and the wisps of marble dusts were the guardians.

I had forgotten about that drive until today, when thinking about that marble on the wall, and how it got there. Though Belgium is known for its own opulent marble supply, I will never forget the specters of the Carrara quarries, even if I have to be reminded of them.