Dante’s Inferno and variations on circles of hell.
I still don’t seem to be able to read well and can’t sustain a novel so have enjoyed Hunt Emerson’s edition of the Inferno.
As I dipped into it on this evening I noticed the late light on my ring. These things are nothing and everything. Nothing matters and everything matters. It can be hard to hold (and probably a contradiction to try). But pain seems to be a constant.