Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding

That has become familiar over the last ten days. That mind you, is unusual--I am seldom angry; sure, I can lose it over the Premier League or ideology, but not a fuming rancor.

Well, enough of Covid-driven work stress, I loved this play.

My wife and I went to see the Ralph Fiennes directed film adaptation years ago, largely because it was shot in and around Belgrade. I have watched a few times since and am always moved by its martial poetry. The play focuses on the historical Gaius Marcius, here named Caius Marcius: an aristocratic general with a spectacular talent for war and a simmering loathing for the preterite and all their common-ness (during one rebuke he advises them to wash their faces and clean their teeth). This certainly builds no bridges or aqueducts, when in . . .-- but his military honor places him in the political spotlight and our unapologetic hero won't play nice and many unfortunate things occur. Public caprice is satirized as is the ease in which political agency responds. It would be centuries before the flip itself would be switched. .