Archive > Vol. X no. Z
So Virgil took me to the tenth prison and there I saw myself and Beatrice —
my guide explained: this is the hell of spectators, those who watch torture and make excuses: yet we seemed at ease, my love and I, strolling, raptly parsing a point of law. The light was from childhood as if the Arno were tucked just behind a garden wall. We ambled among sunflowers and as we passed, their eyes opened wide and followed us.