the eve of battle

It is the night before finals. Snow falls steadily outside while inside numerous students are diligently pouring over their notes.

Open books, loose papers, a box of Wheat Thins, a half burnt candle, bits of torn paper, and a tea mug belonging to one of my roommates surround me as I attempt to wrap my stubborn brain around Roman philosophy. Very pragmatic folks, those Romans.

My commonplace book has fallen open to an incredibly famous quote:

Trojans, do not
trust in the horse. Whatever it may be,
I fear the Greeks, even when they bring gifts.

-Laocoon, from Virgil's Aeneid.

Aristotle is waiting for his writings to be actualized on my page. Virgil demands to be understood - "What makes me a stoic?!" And I say it was fate. All fate.