An Ode to Latin
When I was about 15 years old, I came across an unusual book in my unremarkable local library. It was a self-teaching book to learn Latin. I was fascinated and even stunned by the possibility to learn, at least up to some extent, the language of the ancient poetry of Ovid and Horace, of law and philosophy, of science and medicine, as I perceived it at that time. Being raised in a predominantly agnostic environment, the connection between Latin and the Catholic culture was obscure to me at that age. Except for the vague memories of Latin words found in some religious paintings of old masters, I did not think of Latin as one of the ever-lasting imprints left by the Judeo-Christian tradition on the western civilization, and even beyond that.
Sure enough, I was not even thinking in those terms at that tender age, but my curiosity and excitement to get familiar with the language used by some of the greatest minds of human history took over my hesitation, and I borrowed the book. And I did spent weeks and even months with it going through some basic vocabulary and grammar. I could not get too far without practicing it, but I was able to grasp the sense of exceptional brevity of Latin, which in my opinion made it sound so noble and wise that it forever filled my heart with awe and respect.