Aunti Poldi and the Sicilian Lions

“Two carabinieri are on guard in the street. One says, ‘Look, a dead seagull.’ The other looks up at the sky and says, ‘Where?’

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The Summer Book

p. 109   “A small island, on the other hand, takes care of itself.  It drinks melting snow and spring rain and, finally, dew, and if there is a drought, the island waits for the next summer and grows its flowers then instead. The flowers are used to it, and wait quietly in their roots. There’s…