The Limoncello of Life- a taste like no other

its over

I said goodbye to Sicily 

Flew across the water

Hello Rome 

I’ll say farewell tomorrow 

No more limoncellos as I watch the sun go down 

No more saltiness on my lips

Floating mindlessly in the sea

No more bare arms 

No bare legs

Except in the privacy of the apartment life

The dualism of the human existence 

How would I know otherwise?

I’m lost for words

Just know that this time has been like no other

As with any ending

Be it adventure 

Be it a challenge 

Be it love

There is an end

Emotions 

What do I do now?

How do I find that feeling again?

If I search in all spaces 

Will it come to me?

Is it like an addiction 

Where more and more will be demanded?

Can I return to the stage of rest and contentment?

The path must be walked

With open eyes 

And an open heart

An open mind

I will see and know when the path delivers

The rough parts

The dreamy spaces

The hill

The limoncello of life!

Florence treads the Floors of Death. ....

http://www.palermocatacombs.com/

Can a place have such depths of glory, horror and culture?
I wondered about the harshness of such a volcanic world.
Volatile is the first word
An island of volatility
Mt Etna
Passion
Gestures
Words
Conversation
All potentially explosive!
Softness does not appear
The land is dry and harsh
No water in the fountain of the palace garden
Wall render falling to it’s death
Hidden facades of history gradually revealing themselves
Ancient stone
And brick
Arabic faces
Amidst Norman
Roman takeover
But it wasn’t
It was a merger
Food of strong flavour
Wine to set the soul on fire
It is a conglomerate.
But
I cannot fail to see
There is softness
And kindness
And pleasure.....

They trimmed my hair and made me into royalty


After I spent my morning staring at mummified bodies
The catacombs are full of corpses on display
Their clothes speak of days gone by
Their lack of teeth
Speak of  poor nutrition
I could count teeth
I could see some faces that were just sleeping
Row upon row

I needed some beauty

The catacombs were kind of like a metaphor of Palermo
Decay
Centuries
Time
The ultimate point

Dust unto dust