Roma

April 10, 2010

I made it to Rome. Plane was late leaving America. I’ve been up for for about 32 hours. I fall asleep at the keyboard, and my head tumbles forward, if I pause to think, so I keep my fingers moving . . .

I wonder what it was like for my Mom and Dad when they docked in Southhampton and rolled their bikes down the gangplank and had to ride on a hard, narrow seat just to get to the first bed. I took a train from Leonardo di Vinci airport to Termini Station.

My parents began their European adventure at the northern end of the territory covered. I’m starting at the southern end. Somewhere in the middle our stories will converge—in so many ways, I am sure.

This evening I watched what I call the peacock parade on Via del Corso: The boys walk in front of the girls, be they girlfriends, sisters, or mothers. Erect and wearing suits, or suitcoats and jeans, leather coats and jeans, they strut fully conscious of the cut of their clothing, the tightness of their pants, the style of their eyewear, watches, haircuts. They are beautiful.

Via Del Corso - Roma, Giuseppe Pasquali


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