the more I want out. I sit at my computer and look at real estate in Italy. I learn phrases like “Mi miatro e italiano” (my husband is Italian) or “Non se fossi l’ultimo uomo sulla terra.” (Not if you were the last man on earth.) and I pray that some day I’ll get to use them. In spite of the jaded exterior I put up I think there is still something of a romantic left in me though I’ve done all I know to kill it. Hanging on to hope can sometimes be like keeping a bitter mistress – not very satisfying but you don’t have to give up muchh for it. I’d happily give up my citizenship to live somewhere that values beauty and where things ancient and modern reside comfortably together; where men who hold the most high office of the people they lead can feel comfortable wearing red Prada shoes.
