Feb 1
1 min read
On writing
Tis Strange to See
a pondering in L’Aquila, Italy
‘Tis a strange thing to
see a woman
eating alone
in a cafe
or restaurant
in Italy.
Passersby
assume she is
a stranger,
a foreigner,
an American.
She is a curious sight
sitting there alone in
a corner table on
Via del Corso.
To her, she is invisible
to the outside world.
It’s just her
a sketch pad,
a journal,
a book.
Companionship
to fill the empty
chair next to her.
Occasionally,
she looks up
scans the piazza,
takes notes
of the Italiani
around her
vibrating in a
vowel based
cacophony
over a
Spritz
and
crostini.
She catches the
eye of a ragazza
eating a chocolate gelato.
An endearing smile
twinkles across her face—
before submerging
into the tranquility
of the silent peace
she carries within her.
