"La vita è un mucchio di merda, ed io sono il gallo che ci sale sopra per cantare". Discuss.
Did I mention before that the time I spent in Italy (first in the north, and later in Naples) was a formative period in my life? Yes, I did. I have been back many times since, mostly to Tuscany and Venice, but that is just building on the foundations of my Brescia-Naples years.
What brought on this attack of nostalgia was not scouring the Italian shelves in Tesco's, but a conversation I just had with a lovely lady acquaintance about Italian women, a subject on which I do not claim to be an expert, worse luck. She commented that they all seem to start out beautiful: liquid brown eyes, raven-black hair, fine bosoms, nipped in waists and shapely calves, but "all too soon turn into fat mammas".
Is it true? If it is - and I doubt it - it's not a kind thing to say. What I have "turned into" at 71 is to be expected, but I hope it wasn't "all too soon".
Now, let me see if I can find a nice photo of an Italian girl, all liquid brown eyes, raven black hair, nipped in waist, etc. You know me, any excuse...
Not quite what I had in mind, but she'll do. Heart of gold, I'll wager. And fortuitous to boot...
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