07/20 Note from the Palazzo #5 A Byzantine Thought.
Motel cabines au Fleuve d'Argent
I always think of the town of Rivière du Loup , the last town you encounter in Quebec before you turn into the dark forest of New Brunswick, as a kind of Istanbul, a dividing city between East and West. If you think of my world, like me, in Byzantine terms, then you understand how I can think of Montreal as my Venice, my city of light. Even as a younger man living in the Maritimes, I always felt a sense of emerging when I reached the St-Lawrence. Tell me that memory is not genetic. But I understand that my world is the one I live in, the one I come from geographically, and that the only way I have found to enlarge my horizon was to enlarge it with metaphors, notwithstanding the travels I might have undertaken. There's another dimension to Rivière du Loup that you might not know about, one my sisters and I talk about. This is where the Kerouac family came from before moving to Lowell, Massachusetts. Rivière du Loup is a small town. But I have always felt comfortable there. It's a place that feels like the eye of a needle. You can go anywhere from there. East, West or you can cross the Bosphorus (The St-Lawrence River) on a ferry and find yourself in the Fjords. What do you call those places, that give you the feeling you can see the whole world from there? Rio Lobos. Wolf River.