Took a walk up the mountain to catch a view of the Alps on the other side. To stand in one country and look at another while thinking of a third where you are and I am not.
Based on one sighting, Italian cats are fat, fluffy, snobbish, and orange.
Olive trees, as it turns out, are small.
Blake was fond of filling spaces in between words with the line of beauty. A tilde for every other vacant space.
Based on two sightings, orange things thrive in Italy.
Took a break in an empty shed and wondered what the balls were for.
Didn’t manage to make my way to the top. The wind was too strong I thought a tornado was about to hit. Was less scared of the force than the ridiculous howling, which later on, turned out to be all talk.
Michaux writes, “The education regarding chills is not well handled in this country. We are ignorant of the true rules and when the event appears, we are taken unawares.
It is Time, of course. (Is it the same with you?) One must arrive a little sooner than it does; you see what I mean, only a tiny little bit ahead. You know the story of the flea in the drawer? Yes, of course. And how true it is, don’t you think! I don’t know what more to say. When are we going to see each other at last?”
P.S. When are we going to see each other at last?