“It’s a Mario — it’s not Italian”

A couple of years ago I was in Parma on a bit of a boondoggle and hooked up with a friend I’d made in Tuscany while we were both photo widows during a workshop. After a pizza lunch at which her two-year-old daughter used the receipt as a mobile phone, we went for a walk in a park where Viola heard birds chirping and said, her mom translated: “That’s the beginning of song.” Too bad Twitter is not the beginning of writing. But I am breaking away after nearly a month to revive this anyway.