Fog to Frescoes

This is a story of seventy years ago (or a stretch from long before WWI to the end of Viet Nam) in the memory of a little boy who could catch the colors and delight in his exceptionally cultivated family’s recognitions, but could not join them up.

Pronto Soccorso

When I bent over in the narrow hotel bathroom to dry my leg, the last thing I expected was the searing pain that lit up my right buttock.

Italy

As we approach the bus station, which isn’t a building at all but a loop in the road with a small sign, we don’t see anyone. If during the vacation I need to dump a body I think I’ve found my spot.