Camilleri, the father of the Italian police commissioner Salvo Montalbano, which became a series of mystery stories published by Sellerio, was originally a stage director and playwright. It is tempting to compare him to Pirandello, the Sicilian author known for his plays and short stories and awarded the Nobel prize in 1934. Camilleri died atContinue reading “What Happens to Montalbano?”
Author Archives: Erika Bizzarri
Homeless by Choice
Gaunt, with a straggly flowing grey beard and hair, he sits huddled in the doorway of the bank at the crossing of two of the main streets in town. Or you may find him on the short street that leads to the market where he is more sheltered from the wind. Wrapped in a blanket,Continue reading “Homeless by Choice”
If only or what if
Hah! It’s not the if only of several weeks ago. It has to do with the ould verbs. Could, would, should. Will have to check the etymology. Is it subjunctive? Oh dear, here one gets into Old English. I could have, I would have, I should have. None of which is what I did. However, this led me toContinue reading “If only or what if”
Francesco
If only he hadn’t wanted to finish weed-wacking that field. He’d put in a new cutting string that whirled around and effortlessly did away with what most people called weeds. Some were and some weren’t. He knew the difference and most of them, in one way or the other, were edible. You might have toContinue reading “Francesco”
Old Age
Finally old age has caught up with me. I had thought of it as an inevitable disease, but about which we can do little. It is there,lurking and waiting to surface, like shingles. It may not appear for a long time, but it’s there. Sooner or later we will all be getting older. It dependsContinue reading “Old Age”
Perks
Perks or unexpected aspects of what happened. Well, not exactly a perk but a way of looking at the positive side of having broken my leg. My computer screen, in addition to the usual trademark Apples, accompanies them with the words “We love you”, a reminder of the presence of my sons. Thanks to them,Continue reading “Perks”
The Clinic
After my operation, for a few weeks I am in a clinic or struttura as they call it, named after a saint. The nuns who manage it recite their morning prayers before helping the inmates (I suppose that is what one can call them) begin their daily activities of coloring a line drawing of aContinue reading “The Clinic”
Accident
It was two,o’clock in the morning. I was asleep and Teah my dog barked. just once. She needed, or wanted, to go out to the patio, a few steps up. I let her out and on returning, the light goes out and I forget that there is a step. Suddenly I am on the floorContinue reading “Accident”
Ninety Six
February 15, ninety six years ago just after midnight I was washed and dressed in what might be called swaddling clothes. Now almost a century later I am still being washed and clothed.but it is no longer the same for the roles, have been reversed and it is not easy to accept that it isContinue reading “Ninety Six”
Christmas 2024
It’s Christmas! or Hanukkah, of whatever you like. It’s a time to celebrate family and love. I can’t say peace and prosperity since that seems rather far away in the world at this moment. So our best greetings from the Orvieto gang in the person of Costanza. Let’s hope for the future, which is aboutContinue reading “Christmas 2024”
Encounters
Fleeting encounters I remember, but do they? One never knows what life will hold in store. Throughout the years we cross paths with people of all kinds, for all kinds of reasons. Perhaps I was more likely to have a variety of encounters since I had a shop on the cathedral square, since the localContinue reading “Encounters”
Romanesque Memories
It must have been in the seventies. A friend of ours, one of several Marios around, was teaching a course on Romanesque art in Florence, for which a tour of France, Sardinia and Tuscany had been organized. First a word about Mario Bucci, a professor we all loved, perhaps because of, or in spite of, hisContinue reading “Romanesque Memories”
Roads not Taken, Lives not Lived
One wonders sometimes what life would have been like had we taken a different road. One can’t help but thinking of Robert Frost and the road not taken. If only … I could have … Why didn’t I? Everyone has a story to tell. Everyone is what one is because of a life that perhapsContinue reading “Roads not Taken, Lives not Lived”
Books once more
By its very nature, the printed word is an incommensurable subject. Books are a never-ending delight. Well, maybe not all of them. There are certainly some you may wish you’d never encountered, books that haunt you when you would rather sleep. Yet sometimes it is the other way around. Those nagging thoughts of what you didContinue reading “Books once more”
Shopping with Ma
Time has come to figure out what to write for next week’s post. Once I get one done and sent to my editor, it’s time for the next, which will probably mean I’ll stay awake half the night “thinking”. This time I have been rescued by my son, God bless him. Undoubtedly, it’s thanks toContinue reading “Shopping with Ma”
Books I’ll Read Again.
As a new friend, met as usual at Blue Bar, which is becoming a sort of expat Casablanca, you’ve asked me for suggestions as to what to read. I don’t really know where to start as I now sit here at my computer, having finished lunch and waiting for my “dogwalker” (I can still readContinue reading “Books I’ll Read Again. “
Last Rose Musings
On January 30th of this year, I wrote a poem about a rose. I called it the last rose and, in the end, said I would throw it out. “… an everlasting rose so beautiful in its essentiality that I hesitate to throw it out, despite the fact that it is no longer in its prime.Continue reading “Last Rose Musings”
Orvieto Open City
It was the morning of June 14th, 1944. While a peace treaty with the Allies had been signed, the Germans were still hanging on and Orvieto was one of their strongholds. The not too distant Viterbo had been devastated and Major Heseltine, leading his squadron of British tanks, was approaching the city of Orvieto. HisContinue reading “Orvieto Open City”
Jazz
A life not lived. New York City. 1950 more or less. I was in my early twenties. In my family, one listened to classical music, Mozart, Bach, Debussy. My father frowned on so-called popular music and, well, I don’t remember what he said about Frank Sinatra and, I imagine, jazz. Time had passed and atContinue reading “Jazz”
Windows
It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. The sun streams in through a window in the wall that overlooks the square. Plants on the windowsill cast shadows on the floor, shifting shadows that change shape as two becomes four. White curtains hang quietly on either side without a breeze to stir them, kept at bay byContinue reading “Windows”
Erika Bizzarri 