Made the medieval-peasantry two hour walk into the city. Might have caught the end of Mass, but a large event had shut down the roads in that direction. Veered to the coffeehouse by the university and finished The Ambassadors. The last time that I read it, I hadn't read quite as much philosophy, and missed that the entire ending happens in the context of Dr. Johnson's refutation of Bishop Berkley. Literally, as if kicking a rock. Henry's innovation: Strether thinking it a hornpipe. Dance as the empirical form of idealism.
Dry goods acquired, market wandered through, made the two hour walk back. A good Sunday, in the formalist sense of action that leaves open space for contemplation, but when I returned to my desk in the exurb, I realized how much focus had been lost with the four hours of walking. And no Mass--which was equally my (most grievous) fault, as I couldn't quite get to consciousness in the morning when the alarm sounded. Springtime must untie that.
Eve of the Orthodox Ascension, as depicted on the holy doors. One can't therefore enter the depiction, but the event's nature as door is shown. In a way, the negation of the depiction, showing the limits of such things. I suppose the Herms of the hermeneutic were much the same function. Using the vocabulary of the things we do, we do things to use words.