I learned many years ago while living in Manhattan that the lonlies want to walk. This is why I love foot-centric cities and towns. I find walks among living creatures to be\u00a0a great slayer of loneliness.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
The\u00a0first stop is across the street. My sleek, black and white doggie friend who I greet through the gate is feeling better. He’s seemed a bit under the weather for the past week, not greeting me at all or more briefly than is his custom. I worried. He sees me approach\u00a0and runs up wiggling at all joints. He perches up so I can reach his nose and head, I touch both, scratch behind the ears, he licks and nuzzles my hand, then goes about his day. If I’m insistent, I can lure him back for another greeting. \u00a0Because I’m fighting the lonelies I call him back twice, and being a compassionate soul, he obliges.<\/p>\n
I decide on a long walk to the wall at San Giovenale then\u00a0 Andreas has a tiny toy bow. \u00a0The purpose of the walk becomes to\u00a0discover, then fashion, arrows for him to shoot. His dad helps. I want to, but feel shy. I adore this family. Claudia is my friend. I’ve known her longer than Enrico has. She’s\u00a0a\u00a0trusty guide through the maze of the Italian language, occasionally through its bureaucracy, and is wonderful\u00a0company. \u00a0Enrico, a graphic designer by trade, is a deadpan comic by destiny; he’s good at both. Their eldest son is Tobia, more reserved than Andreas, but no wallflower. \u00a0Tobia is at a birthday party for one of his friends, one that turned improvisationally into a movie party in Attigliano.<\/p>\n We wander. \u00a0Arrows are found, and trimmed and shot. \u00a0Andreas reveals\u00a0bottomless pockets filled with inexhaustible treasures of confetti. This\u00a0is the final weekend before Marted\u00ec<\/span> Grasso, and as on\u00a0every weekend after mid-January, is part of an extended Carnevale celebration especially for children. Streets are littered with colored, shiny, and colored and shiny circles and squares. \u00a0Day-glow spaghetti\u00a0 We arrive at the top of the Passeggiata to a playground filled with tubes and chutes and ladders, and a hedge maze perfectly\u00a0scaled for children. The little piazza has an abundance\u00a0of trees, so therefore, a abundance\u00a0of arrows. While Claudia and I stand by the wall and chat, Enrico puts his hood up and roams the maze in a squat, pretending to terrorize Andreas who noisily obliges. It’s first-rate\u00a0entertainment.<\/p>\n Claudia shares a photo of Tobia and his friends at their birthday party. Twelve boys with mustaches of various colors and sizes, one with a well-developed pair of schnoz glasses. \u00a0It’s the perfect opening frame for a nostalgia movie of thirty years from now. I hope I’m around to see the final cut.<\/p>\n Confetti exhausted, arrows slung, parents and guest thoroughly shot, the sun dimming, we stroll back to Piazza del Popolo where they’ve parked. Andreas flings himself onto the floor of the car below the rear seat. Everyone teases everyone else. They load up, and we wave and shake and kiss cheeks.<\/p>\n I go for a longer walk. The lonelies have been vanquished. The town is full of children and old people, and those creatures between in age who tend to us both. Everyone is family.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The other day I got the lonelies. It’s a habit. When I’m delighted by\u00a0a moth who has joined me in the\u00a0apartment for her remaining days, when I say hello to the primroses on the terrace\u00a0without thinking it odd, when I talk to the ladybug who somehow survived a childhood in a tin full of clothespins … Continue reading La Famiglia:<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/241"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=241"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/241\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":390,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/241\/revisions\/390"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=241"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=241"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=241"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"Gatto](\"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/Gatto-Inverso4.jpg\")
<\/a>Next, the striped cat. \u00a0She’s a frisky animal, various shades of brown and tan with a strength in the way she moves that is\u00a0evident\u00a0a meter or two away. After a\u00a0few\u00a0pets she hops onto a\u00a0low stone wall that surrounds\u00a0her territory and walks me a half dozen meters to a porch where she throws herself rhapsodically onto her back. \u00a0I sometimes manage to scratch her belly\u00a0without triggering the tooth and claw reflex, most\u00a0times I fail. I’m thinking of pocketing a glove so I can experiment until I get it right.<\/p>\n<\/a>down to the Anello<\/a>, all the way to Fortezza Albornoz, then back up the hill on via delle Donne. I begin my usual route through Quartiere Mediolvale\u00a0to San Giovenale, but want more variety, so retrace my steps, take another turn, retrace again, and\u00a0choose the\u00a0street that after turning right at its\u00a0end will lead\u00a0to the back of the church.<\/p>\n<\/a>Strolling towards me are a couple — hoods up against the chill — and their boy. It’s Andreas, the younger son of friends Claudia and Enrico. He\u00a0recognizes me first, and I’m delighted. Andreas is a charming, blond-headed, loud-mouthed, high-energy\u00a0eight-year old, and to be other to him than the old guy who doesn’t\u00a0talk that well, is marvelous. \u201cGuarda! Ecco Davide!\u201d Then Enrico notices, then Claudia, and soon I’ve been\u00a0invited to walk to the top of the Passeggiata Confaloniera.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a>foam hangs from walls. Andreas, by nature resourceful, had packed away a kilo of confetti for private use against his family, and is taking advantage of his foresight. It’s a one-sided battle. The wind blows the stuff at and beyond us before we can collect it\u00a0to return the bombardment. This is exactly to Andreas’ liking.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n