Tag: The Divine Tour

The food I ate in Italy deserves a litany of praise. An art unto itself, it satisfied so deeply I expected to rise each morning cured of hunger— forgetting hunger, like longing, is a ritual.

Drive as a passenger through Tuscany, and even if you squint or fall asleep, but catch brief glances through curtained blinks,

In the Venetian Accademia, I stood quietly before a study of flowers— their bends and curls precise, examined.