I was at the coffee bar and had just settled down for my morning coffee when I noticed a young man seated at the table by the door. He couldn’t have been more than twenty with a mop of curly hair and smooth chubby cheeks. And he was big. After exchanging good morning greetings, heContinue reading “Brief Encounters”
Tag Archives: prose
Fleeting Memories
July, summer has set in it all its heat. I lie motionless in bed hoping to cool off. My hands and arms finally feel cold. Eyes closed, I let my mind wander and find myself in Jerusalem or Nazareth. Forty years ago. I have risen early. The American students I am chaperoning are still asleep. All butContinue reading “Fleeting Memories”
Dream
Last night I had a vision. The city, once Urbs Vetus, Now Orvieto, Was rooted in the cliff On which it stood. Houses, streets, lanes, piazzas Were all sprouting from the tufa cliff, Like weeds Or flowers of the field That last but a day. Only here and there A few tap roots reached downContinue reading “Dream”
Usual Musings
It must be one or two in the morning. I lie in bed and have pulled the blankets, really only one, up to my shoulders. And there in that triangle of sky at the top of a shaft between the shutters through which light can filter, I sometimes see, – from where I lie – theContinue reading “Usual Musings”
A Yellow Butterfly
As usual I was hunting for a book. A slender booklet. And there was this story of a yellow butterfly. Pont-Aven. A seaside town in the Brittany region of France, the haunt of artists such as Gaugin. But what I wanted to find was a brief essay where a saffron yellow butterfly was the leadingContinue reading “A Yellow Butterfly”
Reading versus Speaking
I have an Italian friend intent on learning new languages, in particular English. So, when we have a few minutes, we take out an English book and he reads a few pages aloud, marking words or phrases that are new to him, particularly those he feels he can use. There are some of course I warnContinue reading “Reading versus Speaking”
How long?
The end is drawing near. How long? A year? Or three or four? Or less or more? Then, if I could, I would wander up some lane, onto a sunlit terrace, or float out over the patchwork of green fields in the valley, and dissolve, disappear into the ether. How do I wish to beContinue reading “How long?”
Moral Dilemma
A term I was unacquainted with. Is it perhaps too philosophical for me? Makes sense though when I figured out what it meant. So you have a house, a really old building with which you have fallen in love . It’s lovely but obviously needs to be seen to, needs repair, needs love. And nextContinue reading “Moral Dilemma”
Now I See You
Now you see me Now you don’t Does that mean you no longer exist? Not only could I see, but I could also touch and hear you. Then when you turned the corner you were no longer there. Or if you were there, you were invisible. Is that any different from the tree I seeContinue reading “Now I See You”
Lion
Lion on my windowsillwhat are you looking at,what are you thinking. Silently you watch memove through the room. Yesterdayyou looked outwardson the age-old chestnutdown by the gate,on the ladder restingagainst the wallto one side of the window,on the lilac bushhalfway down the slopealready weighted downwith fragrant purple clusters.My Ukrainian helperasked permissionto cut a branch forContinue reading “Lion”
Now
Yesterday…tomorrow.Before…after.Now.Suddenlyspring has given way to summer.In town legs and arms are bare,offering mosquitoes and no see’umsa banqueting table. In the country night creeps up,making way for thoughts.How rare just to sit,let oneself merge with the night,stop thinking of anything but the now.To stop thinking. And be aware of sounds,of shades of darkness, of touch, ofContinue reading “Now”
Love
We are human beings and subject to a range of emotions, ranging from hate to love. Perhaps one of the most significant of human emotions is love, that attachment to another being, an emotion we also find in our four-legged friends. There is the love of a child for his mother, of a mother forContinue reading “Love”
One Never Knows
One never knows There weren’t too many in Orvieto those years who spoke English. It must have been the late 1960s or early 70s. There was the language school, equivalent of high school. They needed someone called “a reader”, who would come once a week to lend a hand to the regular teacher and theyContinue reading “One Never Knows”
Movies
My family is not a movie family. There are however memories of movies, and many I have watched more than once, whether on the silver screen or TV. Movies that I remember. The dates may not be when I saw them, but are when they came out. So it is when, where, and with whom.Continue reading “Movies”
Memories
Rome with Carolyn, 8 may 2015 Over ten years ago. When living here in Rome was still something to be envied. The Janiculum. Dinner at Lo Scarpone. A large entrance courtyard with a flowering vine covering the whole area. Then in with tables and let’s say real food, although they also had pizza. In oneContinue reading “Memories”
Coming Back
Coming back. Returning. To a place. But without the people you saw there every day it was not the same. So you cut short your stay. You left. Surely, though, I want to tell you, you can return to a place without the people. A place can be seen for itself alone. You can experienceContinue reading “Coming Back”
Mother Tongue
I’m translating from Italian to English. But is English my mother tongue? Since my mother’s mother tongue was German, her first words to me, her infant daughter, were undoubtedly in German, but I don’t consider that my mother tongue. It might be so in a sense, for I probably absorbed it as I did my mother’sContinue reading “Mother Tongue”
Birthday
97 years ago. I find it strange and somehow revealing that my father didn’t mention my mother’s name – after all seems she played an important part in this event. The years have passed, and now that I am 97 I find myself thinking of the many things I wish I had done, or hadContinue reading “Birthday”
Aftermath of Phone Books
I doubt one can still find those thick phone books which told you the telephone number and street where a person lived. Not only that but they doubled as cushions to raise toddlers high enough to sit at a table with grown-ups. Those large unwieldy objects are objects of the past, but small personal phoneContinue reading “Aftermath of Phone Books”
Burning Memories
When I lived in New York studying at the university, most of my friends were Jewish. It was something I simply took for granted. They might have been Greek or Albanian or Indian. Most of them paid little attention to the fact that my family was of German stock. But it was not until IContinue reading “Burning Memories”
Erika Bizzarri 