~swifts of siracusa~

October 24th, 2019

O Cuntadino Sutta lu Zappuni by Sicilian Soprano of the South Rosa Balistreri.

~ciao, italia~

October 24th, 2019

P1180151

The view from our best dust, mid-trip, with gorgeous light and a murmuration of swifts.

P1180344

P1180366

P1180409

P1180413

P1180464

P1180485

P1180524

P1180711

~also ravello~

October 24th, 2019

P1190450

…and then you drive out of Ravello by way of the Amalfi coast, cleverly avoiding the inland mountain road you travelled the previous day, which made the hairpin turns of the coastline seem child’s play, and your wife eerily silent, but for tiny gasps.

And then, perhaps 45 minutes into your journey, the road you’re on is abruptly closed for construction, requiring a hair-raising three point turn and travel back to that other so-called road, your wife cursing all the way.

P1190504

P1190523

P1190537

P1190540

P1190652

P1190554

P1190381

P1190375

P1190580

~ravello~

October 23rd, 2019

Occassionally, you wake up in Ravello…

P1190383

P1190384

P1190386

~pondering prophets~

October 23rd, 2019

P1180931

As we moved through Modica’s melancholy decay and many shades of green, I pondered the possible significance of the gifts of Siracusa, two of which tie to melancholy myths of prophets—one beheaded, one disbelieved and eventually murdered.

I love the notion of being a conduit for messages from the beyond, as writing sometimes feels. I admire these figures’ courage, which writing also requires. For now, I’ll presume these gifts were calling me—in no way a prophet, it’s a metaphor, man—to return to my desk.

P1190113

P1180929

P1180962

P1180989

P1180997

P1190071

P1190001

P1190180

P1180900

~maestro of modica~

October 23rd, 2019

P1190006

We drove to the hillside commune of Modica, and while hoofing up the mountain to check out the Baroque alta (upper region), befriended a man who guided us to the main (and most decorative) drag.

P1190044

P1180938

He showed us various buildings, including his own, once housing his medical practice (now retired), and when departing, gave me the oldest seed in the world, pulled from his pocket.

P1180939

P1180942

I later identified it as the seed of carob, or St. John’s Bread (so named b/c John the Baptist is said to have survived on carob pods—aka locust and wild honey—when in the desert. This was apparently some time before Salome danced with seven veils and demanded the prophet’s head on a platter, on behalf of her vengeful mother.)

P1180955

P1190085

It’s the third such gift (the seed, no head) I received on this journey—along with an offer, by the artist, to make a wish at his altar to Casandra (the Greek prophet who spoke truth that no one believed, and so thought her mad), and a  leather keychain hand-tooled with my astrological sign, from another artist and fellow Cancerian.

P1190087

P1190133

(To say nothing of ghost fox and owl visitations.)

P1180914

~road to modica~

October 22nd, 2019

P1180730

P1180773

P1180785

P1180869

P1180793

P1180860

Protected: ~apollo’s temple~

October 21st, 2019

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

~a word from our sponsor~

October 20th, 2019

1

Sometimes when travelling, one must pause and be dazzled by local television.
We discovered wine-making human grapes competing internationally,
women dancing in aprons, women dancing in bubbles, women selling voodoo amulets,
and, Boy George.

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

~duomo, siracusa~

October 19th, 2019

P1180329

P1180182

P1180232

P1180278

P1180239

P1180280

P1180253

P1180262

P1180271

P1180306

Powered by WordPress. Theme by Sash Lewis.