A photograph from years ago—my parentsin front of Drottningholm Palacenear Stockholm.It’s probably September,month of partings and rapture. My father in his tie,my mother’s scarf(elegance pre-1968).They watch me closely,fondly, with concern.…
In memoriam Paola Malavasi September 2005, we came back from vacation,sat down at the kitchen tablecovered in green oilcloth.Suddenly Nicola calls, asking, do you knowthat Paola Malavasi diedsuddenly, in the…
After lengthy preparationsthe great poet Basho begins his journey.The very first day he happensto walk past a sobbing childabandoned by his parents.He leaves him there, by the roadside,because, he says,…
Two dumpy women with buns were drinking coffeeIn a narrow kitchen—at least I think a kitchenAnd I think it was whitewashed, in spite of all the shade.They were flat brown,…