In the city that some used to call the Seattle of Italy, nowadays you can only overdose on poetry.
The coronavirus has made me feel more connected to the world than I have felt in a long time.
What if, having escaped Hitler, Gidon is killed by a microscopic bug?
“Love As The World Ends”
“If This Next Apocalypse Gets Canceled Or Postponed”
“Would you like to go for a dinner, let’s say in one or two months, if restaurant will be reopened by that time?” I imagine he would ask.