Thursday the 17th
Beginning Italian lessons and a visit to Villa Aurelia. Magnificent chandeliers and paved floors that are like fabulous geometric paintings.
Richard has agreed to be Byron and somehow thinking of him among the women, Michaelangelo like
Katherine agreeing too to be in it and Christina with the blue eyes and fabulous necklaces leaving too soon to make in it.
The rains keep coming like a curtain of sound a stream that is vertical intense and my cheeks are flavored with wine dripping past my bones
Too high too fast a walk down and up stairs more than once.
Everybody is nice
Peter C the poet ends the night of artist presentations with a poem. Wonderful closure. The night was remarkable since the second night had both artists and political work: studies on walled cities, moving from early classical eras to the Romas (gypsies) today behind walls of plywood, Jerusalem included and our own Mexican border. Brilliant actually. Also studies of Libya and colonialism. Poor L saw the poem at end as the only thing describing male white folks! Truly odd reading of poetry. Well, there is always a conservative among the group and surprising one of the black women is also conservative economically: ie nothing will change, it is the Power. She is adamant as if saying something is so will make it so. Wish it were —
Traipsing back and forth for my "marko de bolla". How many times and at the post office in the morning so tired and the women working there white and lipsticked in their fashion. Quite nice though