The Painter
I remember so well that late Autumn, in the heart of Italy, with the musicsurrounding us like blown leaves. The air was cool and sweet. The calamattaolives were ripe and rich and the sweet tastes of gelato pure upon the tongue.All these memories still come to my mind's eye as if it were yesterday. I remember sitting on the plaza, a breeze circlinground us endlessly as we drank the steaming espressos outside the small café.The looming landscape of Rome silhouetted behind her head was a regal...