Peer Comments 1, Week 1

"There is an aqueduct connecting Spoleto to Monteluco. This aqueduct, once a bridge for carriage drivers coming to trade goods, barely fits five across, but when we get to the tax collection window, everyone stops to stare at the scene. The city of Spoleto laid out, a photograph waiting to be taken in the mist. On the side of the window, a splotch of red. Spray paint, from yesterday or three years ago, highlights an etched R on the brick. My little fish don't cry, white painted by B. If you keep moving, a family of snails sleeps on the wall where Luca and his friends rode their bikes when they were our age. The snails, shells swirled with brown and white, camouflage in the bricks, seen only by the keen eye of an artist, or a child who's attention needs constant attention. I imagine I'm a trader in Caesar's  day, hopeful to trade the clay pots in the back of my donkey drawn carriage from Spello or Perugia and one day marry my daughter to a farmer in Spoleto."
Taylor, "Junkyard Quote One, Week One"

Taylor, Domitzia would be proud that you are “using your imagination, mmm?” I think the professor on medieval literature called Spoleto “big smoke” back in the day, and I’m interested in how this idea connects to your image of “Spoletto laid out, a photograph waiting to be taken in the mist.” How do the phrase “big smoke” and your use of mist connect in regard to fame, photography, and representation? You have several time periods at work in this piece, and I wonder which take precedence. You might consider choosing one or maybe two to really dedicate to for now. If you choose to do so, I would suggest the time period in the middle of the three, around Luca’s adolescence, or when the graffiti that most piques your interest was inscribed on the aquaduct. You are a creative person, use your imagination, mmm, and imagine who R and B, were their spray paint cans rusted, left to fade in the sun that marks every stone here? When you time travel back to the time of Caesar, you get too high tone and oversimplify and idealize the life of a clay pot vendor. What kind of problems would such a figure have? Could you complicate the simplicity of a clay pot, donkeys, and an eligible daughter? I really love details like “My little fish don’t cry,” the snails (how could snails work as metaphorical material?), and the clay pots, which by the way, happen to be something Lucas just broke at a Café, interesting material, mmmm! Recycling!