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of words. Allessandra tells him of the small village she comes
from in Tuscany. James tells her of his New York City life. Allessandra
reveals her excitement to return home after three months in America.
James speaks of his eagerness to discover the Italian countryside.
He rides their fluid conversation, succumbing to its rhythm. He
places aside all goals and strategies. He swims in the stories
she tells. Allesandra recommends that he travel to San Miniato.
She speaks of an old man in San Miniato who rents rooms in his
house. She speaks of the beautiful country view and the friendly
people. She repeats the few adjectives she knows in English for
beauty several times. “Beautiful, magnificent, directo from
god, beautiful.” She pulls out a pen from her purse and writes
on a cocktail napkin Papa Germano Piazza del Castello San Miniato “I will go there directly from the airport.” James exclaims. Alessandra smirks. Her smile is so different from her smirk, he thinks. He notices the sarcasm in her mouth gesture. “In Italy nothing is directo. It will take you one day to get to there.” She begins writing directions on the cocktail napkin, and unfolds it so she will have more space to write. She writes at least three lines of instructions filled with train routes and names of towns. James takes the napkin from her, refolds it, and places it in the inner pocket of his jacket. He is complete in the presence of her voice and smell. He continuously gulps from her magical chemical, thinking nothing of |
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