WRATH
"threatening cliffs hewn 
out of cold grey stone"

As we traveled, we traversed the fabled River Styx. Virgil tells me, 

• Son, now behold the souls of those whom anger made a prize; And, further, I would have thee certified That ’neath the water people utter sighs, and make the bubbles to the surface come; As thou mayst see by casting round thine eyes.

One man, a Florentine, actually, attempts to climb into the boat, but he is is torn to shreds by his fellow souls.

Imagine the agony: your tongue lashes out with anger, but it's underwater, so no one hears you, save for the bubbles that surface. ​

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