Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wanna Vespa I just realized that I didn't properly format something, so the Rilke poem is not necessarily as it should be. Grump. I should go fix it, but honestly, I don't have that kind of energy. Yes, I'm lazy, thanks for asking. I've found, as I'm packing, that I'm picking up books that have languished at the back of my bookshelf to give them a parting read before I seal them up in their little cardboard tombs. A lot of them are favorite books, but they've become hidden away. I should mention that I'm odd - I enjoy just picking up a book from time to time to smile at it happily. Kind of a strange posessive thing, I suppose. In a very short space of time, I've read _He, She, and It_, _Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary_, the entire Belgariad series, and a great range of P.D. James' and the early Sayers novels (even though, on the list, we're all the way over near Gaudy Night, although some annoying short stories have gotten in the way.) Plus, I picked up _Italian Neighbors_ by Tim Parks, Pomp and Sustenance by Mary Taylor Simeti, and a book on Perugia, the Italian city where I lived for two months a while back (near Todi, where I lived for two months last summer). I've cranked up the italian pop music, and had my own, solitary festa. Someday, I *will* win the lottery and buy an apartment in Rome, or, if it's a nice, big lottery, a farmhouse in Umbria... Currently listening to Piccola stella senza cielo, by Ligabue - the title translates to "little star without a heaven," which I like. Being without my husband stinks. I miss him, the great burly bear. 1:38 a.m. - 2001-06-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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