There are three books half covered by a quilt next to a box of Kleenexes on my bed. Judi Dench on her delving into the psychology of the Shakespearean characters before bringing them to life on stage, “Held” by Anne Michaels, short stories in Italian by Camilleri. How differently one reads them! Most of myContinue reading “Three Books”
Tag Archives: prose
Not a Madeleine
But a Mounds bar. Coconut and dark chocolate. A Mounds bar from the vending machine along the side of the station sidewalk while I wait for the train to come swooshing in. The year 1952. A subway station in New York. I have always liked coconut but it has to be paired with dark chocolate.Continue reading “Not a Madeleine”
Day After Day
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN ALMOST 97 YEAR OLD LADY WHO HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO FALL AND BREAK HER LEG A YEAR AGO Hard to realize I’m no longer independent. Hard to realize my lovely dog has crossed the rainbow bridge. Now who invented that idea? I find there is a real rainbowContinue reading “Day After Day”
Immigrants
Once upon a time Beginning in 1892, Ellis Island in the port of New York began receiving immigrants, replacing the Castle Garden station. Steamships unloaded their third-class passengers where they were processed before being allowed into what to them was the gateway to a land of opportunity. Immigrants flocked from Ireland, fleeing famine, from Italy,Continue reading “Immigrants”
The Sagra Part II
Local pop groups have set up their acoustic guitars and drums and a singer is trying out her repertoire. They seem to be popular despite their rather deafening volume as people start dancing. There may also be theater representations with plays in the local dialect and with improvised actors. In other words, an evening ofContinue reading “The Sagra Part II”
Notes in The Night
Whenever a thought occurred to me that I didn’t want to lose, whenever I had what you might call an inspiration, I used to jot whatever it was down on a bit of paper. Particularly in the middle of the night. I would switch on the light and scribble whatever it was, hoping I couldContinue reading “Notes in The Night”
Xenia
I am in my shop just off Piazza Duomo when Carlo stops by. If you don’t have anything better to do, I’m going to see a friend in a small town in the hills. Want to come? Well, yes. I don’t have anything better to do and my sales assistant will see to the shop,Continue reading “Xenia”
Lugnano
Lugnano in Teverina (August 1993) You have to know it’s therebut even soit takes you by surprise.A tiny hilltop townwith down belowa far flung valley of olive grovesand fields of wheat. We are politely informedwhere to leave our car.A narrow spiral staircase takes us to the road.We cross and entera meander of streetsin an apparentlyContinue reading “Lugnano”
Never-ending Books
A friend comes to visit. Yes, I know that’s what last week’s post started with. And what do we talk about? Books. Yes, we still talk about books. Not ones we have read, but those we have listened to or watched. These are books we have “seen”, and include a third person, not just theContinue reading “Never-ending Books”
Books
Things shared Experiences Words Books Things heard, things seen: these can be simultaneous. But not touch or taste. For those they must be translated into words. A friend comes to visit. And what do we talk about? Books. We might have shared experiences, things heard, things seen. But it is books that connect us most.Continue reading “Books”
Birdie
Birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill The birdie with a yellow bill I saw just now hopped . . . upon the branch of a chestnut tree, and chirped away looking for a mate as the wind ruffled his feathers and the leaves around him. Inside, on my window sill, aContinue reading “Birdie”
The Snail
Snails are molluscs or gastropods and they have only one foot. In my house in the country I had not only mice but snails perambulating around. Of course, with only one foot one can’t really say they walk. They creep or crawl. Maybe even slither. Which they do of course. There have even been snail races.Continue reading “The Snail”
Mice or Mouses?
Years ago, when I lived in the country by myself, I had to lay down the law for mice. One can’t help liking these little creatures, until one sees the havoc they can create. Yesterday a piece of chocolate left over from an Easter egg displayed a series of tooth marks on one edge. Aha!Continue reading “Mice or Mouses?”
Bilingual
Same concept, dfferent language Don’t know if it is a matter of age, but when one is what can be considered bilingual, and the equivalent of a word in that other language refuses to come to mind, one starts worrying. At least it takes time for that word one is looking for to surface. IContinue reading “Bilingual”
What Happens to Montalbano?
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?”
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”
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”
Erika Bizzarri 