The Definitive New-style Italian Wine Memoir: A Precis

No proper wi-fi connection, but I shall try to make DJR proud of me and my thumbal abilities.

So without further ado and perorations...

PART ONE: I ABANDON MY ROOTS

I am a poor but thoughtful lad. As hogs root in the ice-covered trash cans in the rows of the flooded trailer park, I discover the beauties of the ancient world, of Greece and Rome, in the sticky pages of art books. I hitchhike to the nearest town to see films of post-war desolation, which mirror the destitution of my heart. I first hear Italian spoken by people who are not fugitive Calabrians. I shut my eyes and see sunlight and orange groves amid the man-made ruins. I teach myself Italian. At 14 I leave home to seek my inner Italy, somewhat well prepared for I am already acquainted with grief.

--Oh forgive me, friends, but I cannot go on. I am too moved and overwhelmed with the precocity of my suffering and doughtiness.

Next time, allora, I may be able to continue with PART 2: I EMBRACE ITALY.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Comments

[Dave]

Terry:
I've certainly enjoyed reading your latest posts, e la especiale anniversario about discovering a new life makes me realize how much there is to explore and enjoy. I look forward to reading about embracing Italy.
a abraccia aperte, naturalmente.
Grazie, grazie.