Featured Art: A Rocky Coast by William Trost Richards
De Sandro’s café with the orange tablecloths wades into the one stone street without tourists, all the Venetians pushing their big delivery carts at first of morning. From what I understand of it, the shouting is voluble, happy, glad to be alive, almost never without reference to anatomy.
Nine years after your death it is still your birthday. I’m treating you to cappuccino and showing off my lacework of Italian. Ecco, I cry, pointing to the beautiful faces, the beautiful things.