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Description
The Train
We're sliding between layers of clouds, crossing bridges that look like ancient aqueducts, and passing highways like fascist centipedes on stilts.
Sulmona
Rough stones, rainbow candy flowers, cheese, meat, bread, and wine. Mountains in the mist.
The Climb
The white green mountains and their model train trees, the trickling white gravel, the velvet fire trees. The rain makes a hollow wooden clocking sound falling on the leaves.
Lo Stazzo
Concrete, stone, and smoke. The tiles on the wall say "Beauty is difficult," "Beauty is so difficult." The fireplace says "una stella una stella una stella." The lightbulb in the middle of the room glows like the moon through the smoke from the hissing fire. Bread is cracked, cheese is cut, prosciutto is sliced. Wine staining plastic cups.
Night
We climb the rocks like broken plaster out back. The damp wind, the dark velvet hills, and the midnight sky at eight o'clock.
Mountains
There's one yellow tree against a background of green moss and the smell of earth and wet leaves. The fitful grasses twitch like seismograph needles in the wind. The sheep come down. Bells and gutteral grunts.
Dinner
Crispy dripping sausages, gooey scamorze, smokey toast, and cracked black potatoes scorching ash covered fingers. Card games in the yellow light.
Sunlight
Streaming through the door, it casts shadows on the field and turns the green hills into voluminous brown masses. It's too hot for jackets, the tea with the tinkling little ladle, the fire, too sweet for the amaretti, and we're leaving.
Beech Forest
The creme brulee leaves cascading down over the muddy trail snd bubbling up in front of our feet.
Scanno
Narrow streets and wooden benches in the sun.
The Bus
With the sun out, I can see the difference between the mountains and the sky.

Description
The Train
We're sliding between layers of clouds, crossing bridges that look like ancient aqueducts, and passing highways like fascist centipedes on stilts.
Sulmona
Rough stones, rainbow candy flowers, cheese, meat, bread, and wine. Mountains in the mist.
The Climb
The white green mountains and their model train trees, the trickling white gravel, the velvet fire trees. The rain makes a hollow wooden clocking sound falling on the leaves.
Lo Stazzo
Concrete, stone, and smoke. The tiles on the wall say "Beauty is difficult," "Beauty is so difficult." The fireplace says "una stella una stella una stella." The lightbulb in the middle of the room glows like the moon through the smoke from the hissing fire. Bread is cracked, cheese is cut, prosciutto is sliced. Wine staining plastic cups.
Night
We climb the rocks like broken plaster out back. The damp wind, the dark velvet hills, and the midnight sky at eight o'clock.
Mountains
There's one yellow tree against a background of green moss and the smell of earth and wet leaves. The fitful grasses twitch like seismograph needles in the wind. The sheep come down. Bells and gutteral grunts.
Dinner
Crispy dripping sausages, gooey scamorze, smokey toast, and cracked black potatoes scorching ash covered fingers. Card games in the yellow light.
Sunlight
Streaming through the door, it casts shadows on the field and turns the green hills into voluminous brown masses. It's too hot for jackets, the tea with the tinkling little ladle, the fire, too sweet for the amaretti, and we're leaving.
Beech Forest
The creme brulee leaves cascading down over the muddy trail snd bubbling up in front of our feet.
Scanno
Narrow streets and wooden benches in the sun.
The Bus
With the sun out, I can see the difference between the mountains and the sky.