Fridays in Bracciano (F.I.B.)
I am pleased to make the relatively short introduction between you and what will be called: Fridays in Bracciano. I expect this to evolve into a series of vignettes of our life (more-or-less) in this perfectly sized Italian town. I do not expect all will be true, as I am a writer and Fiction is my play; but all will be based on truth, for that we can’t escape. I am thinking that they will go a little something like this:
Today, being Friday and that day signifying nothing in particular for me, neither the end of a work-week nor the start of a week-end, I awoke with a very pleasant feeling in my gut. Not because it is Friday, per se, but because the light looked so good out the window, that golden early-summer light as it spread itself flat against the terra-cotta tiles of the very proximal roof. And I thought about how lovely it is to be waking up right now, a little late, but listening to starlings swing their wings in their frantic flights above our heads. And I wondered at how I was born so fortunate to be alive and listening to the starlings and looking at the golden light, that I turned and nodded back off to sleep.
Or something like that. So please check back every Friday in addition to every other day of the week. Thanks!
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