A cloudy day in Kawagoe, where I have been stuck since Monday due to the fact that a plane from Tokyo to Atlanta was cancelled, thus stranding a bunch of passengers and filling up all the standby seats for the foreseeable future. I did not put up too much of a protest about the whole situation because I am not in any hurry to get back to the States. In any case, right now, staying at my friend's house, I am reminded how for the past year and for the forseeable future my situation will be one of "salty bread." This, of course, is the situation Dante found himself in when he was exiled from Florence--never to return. Whereas the Florentines (or whatever the hell it is you call people from Florence) were used to having bread without salt, in exile Dante found himself compelled to eat salty bread.
"You shall leave everything you love most. . . . You are to know the bitter taste of others' bread, how salty it is, and know how hard a path it is for one who goes ascending and descending others' stairs" (Paradiso, XVII, 55-60).
I don't know when, or if, I will have my own home again.
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