Spring, 2016. I was broken and exhausted, hobbled by grief, barely able to function. But I would honor the invitation to fly across the pond and abide in the old castle for a season. Perhaps maybe it could reawaken my appetite for life and fill my cup with beauty...
A brim is a category. an expression of tradition, an edge that is not to be crossed. its word is never rebutted: under the brim there is often a head, a house, a rare and arrogant nothing. the head, if that of a cow, is pierced with a steel bolt. the cow is first...
The hour circled around an account of the swallow’s flight. From the Rocca, the massive fortress tower of Umbertide, The sky was a sewing pattern. Scissors feathered in black Exposed the deceit of the evening blue, their dives Cutting the air. Around the solid...
