One is straight away struck by the paucity of words availed to expound this chanced-upon poiesis born in the crevasses of cultural hybridity and nourished in the no man's lands of ascetic transmutation...

With the Baroness in Rome

I was with Tatiana Franchetti in Rome. She saw me standing near to a table peeling dried globs of paint off sandpaper. She said she would give me a house nearby. "I will show you a few tomorrow," she remarked. "You can choose the one you like." "Are you serious?" I asked. "Of course," she said then looked away calmly. I was pleased about this. Later, while riding a friend's motorcycle, I worried about how I could return it in time. I turned down a road but quickly understood that it was actually the entrance to an old abandoned factory. A man near the locked gate waved his arms vigourously. I made a quick u-turn. I was happy in Italy.

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