Moonlight Sonata

Let me come with you. What a moon there is tonight!
The moon is kind – it won’t show
that my hair turned white. The moon
will turn my hair to gold again. You wouldn’t understand.
Let me come with you.

When there’s a moon the shadows in the house grow larger,
invisible hands draw the curtains,
a ghostly finger writes forgotten words in the dust
on the piano – I don’t want to hear them. Hush.

Verses long forgotten come to mind. From the poem by Yannis Ritsos (1909-1990), Η σονάτα του σεληνόφωτος / Moonlight sonata.

As always in poetry, nuance is lost in translation. But it is this or none at all.

October 16th, 2016

Three Jerks and A Lazy Lady

A little game I like to play in big supermarkets or delis – look for products with funny names and make up silly stories like this:

Miranda washed in Absinthe, her perfume subdued by the exquisite fragrance of a 300 day Gorgonzola, a perfume so intoxicating, so maddening, it was enough to turn the Three Jerks of the House of Croxetti against their once beloved cousins of the House of Corzetti. The epic fight that followed brought only grief; it was left upon poor little Jersey Girl to comfort the grieving Lazy Lady of Vermont, offspring of a secret union between the two Houses. To aid her in this unpleasant and troublesome task, she summoned the Honorable Sweet Lady Apple, who promptly came to the rescue making a hasty – but grand – entrance surrounded by a full basketload of Red Globe Grapes.

The cheese section in Eataly is rife with such potential, but I usually end up leaving with some good old trusted Compté or Swiss Gruyère. And I like my Absinthe with a sugar block on the side please, no cheese.

wp20160928_152221 wp20160928_152311 wp20160928_152333wp20160928_153456


wp20160928_152537 wp20160928_152813

Eataly, across from the Flatiron Building

September 28th, 2016