Hard days for Pier Paolo Pasolini and me
La morte non è nel non poter comunicare ma nel non poter più essere compresi
posted by ~Sparrow | Saturday, June 02, 2007
American Girl in Italy
How does the blue mold get in Gorgonzola? Have you ever heard the rocks at Castiglioncello sing and why do writers always seek solace in Italy? Time for me to find the answers to these and see, if in doing so, I also find my home.
About Me
- Name: ~Sparrow
- Location: Rome, RM, Italy
i am actually the lost royal heir to the small kingdom of Birundi...having been secreted away by my wet nurse when mean overlords arrived turning our little known, yet terribly chic fiefdom into a nasty republic. now my people sit glued with their eyes glazed.....dreaming of distant IRA's and stock options, having long forgotten the taste of sweet green olive oil and the scent of rosemary.
- Everyday Facts for an Expat in Rome (that would sh...
- Not Until September
- To boldly go where no fool has gone before....
- One Door
- To Whom it May Concern in the Lofty Halls of Academia
- Who am I?
- Strange but completely normal happenings on my lit...
- Hey there really are quite a few of us....
- specchio
- Wounded Player Out for the Remainder of the Season...
02 June 2007
1 Comments:
this is Rome.
I moved here 3 years ago, and just last september i run into a guy i knew in college who went on one date with my best friend. he's my boyfriend now.
he's been in rome the entire time i've been here.
i ate lunch every day in his piazza.
never saw him until september. weird.
i ran into the Boyf of a friend (hint hint) at my cafe.... while he was having drinks with his other girlfriend.
The business nextdoor that always allows me to use their bathroom when my key is too sticky and wont open is owned run by a brother and sister. The brother just happens to be married to the daughter of my mom's friend's friend. I was told to meet the daughter when i first moved here. I never did. I thought she lived too far away when i lived in Trastevere(she lives down the street too). Randomly i was at dinner where i met the daughter who said her husband worked on my street....then we realized she was the family friend's friend's daughter....
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