Wednesday, May 27


For the past few days I’ve been feeling a bit more depressed than usual. The only cure so far is having a large creamy cappuccino with Oreste, the owner of a local Italian coffeebar. Oreste is tall, handsome and married. He has three children and runs the coffeebar with his wife. He keeps telling me to practice my Italian with him, but perhaps he’d rather practice something else. There are days when he talks about Italian or English poets, and how he would like to be a solitary suffering genius like them.
Yesterday we talked about his parents and Luigi Pirandello, who was born in his hometown.
“Did you know that Pirandello wrote a poem called Hard, Lonely, Naked?” he asked.
He slowly moved his fingers through his curls.
I told him I had never heard of this poem before. The only thing I knew about Pirandello was that he did not like to work, like me. We decided that Hard, Lonely, Naked was a great title for a long poem. It's a bit like Tall, Handsome, Married. Or maybe not.