Reportage 1 week 2

The third cigarette left my head spinning worse than the expensive ale bought from a tiny fridge in the hostel's lobby. In the room behind me I hear the emotions revolving. One person laughing, one person crying, one person silent, wait a minute and they switch. I flip my zippo closed a few more times then falter and drop it into the drying leaves. My frustration tells me I can retrieve it when needed. At this point I notice the graying woman reading under the awning of a BMW van converted into a camper. "I'm sorry for the noise", I say, "do you speak English?" She calls into the van and her husband emerges shouting "English yes" through the cup of bean soup he is eating with an over sized spoon. "I'm sorry," I repeat, "we where just scammed by a taxi driver for almost three hundred Euros. We'll quiet down in a bit." Although I left out the dark curve where the taxis stopped and the four trips Franco the con-artist made to the glove box for fake price sheets I thought would be a gun, the man seems sympathetic and smiles rather than lecture me on our sound. They are from Holland, he says, a beautiful country, I respond. This is my usual reaction to anyone's nationality but for once I mean it. He asks about my studies, our ages must give this away, and soon we're discussing Kant. I know he is trying to clear my mind and I'm glad that my philosophy might now offer me rest. Shauna emerges from the tiny room and reminds me and Megan that we missed dinner in our Naples rush. The Hollander points to the trees, where we now see oranges, and laughs. Megan takes this as a challenge but failing in her jumps I am ordered to my knees by Shauna. One dusted flat over either shoulder and Megan teeters as I stand. Pops above and four large oranges fall into Shauna's hands.

Image Junkyard 2 week 2

The Roman bath houses two bodies. Cleaned before being stained with ash. The smiles look peaceful. Their nails are still visible, half cut.

Image Junkyard 3 week 2

The columns of the 100 bc temple are broken at three feet. A central support is visible, circled with 11 pointed bricks, a flower appears from above.

Image Junkyard 4 week 2

Reburying Pompeii in the ashes of Camels and Lucky Strikes.

Image Junkyard 1 week 2

Doorway four feet tall, entrance a mosaic of a silver wolf biting its own foot. A round fountain remains under a square opening in the clay tiled roof, each corner a sculpted bust mouth open to fill the tub.

Masters The Italian

There are two main properties of Italy which help to make the plot of The Italian, which is often comically fanciful, more realistic and grounded. The first is the ongoing force with which people still hold to the ancient lines of their family. With a history that dates back to at least the Romans, and both the Romans and later the Catholic church keeping detailed records of family lines, it is easy to see why people would openly display and respect their heritage since unlike with Americans it is understood that everyone has access to the knowledge of their family. This is central to The Italian since it shows why Ellena and Vivaldi can't escape their history to be together. The second aspect is the almost universal, at least at the time the novel was written, respect for the Catholic church. Because of this the story can be preserved through people who are given sanctuary by the church, and the church plays an important role in keeping characters apart when necessary, either through inquisition trials and imprisonment or forced recruiting into a convent.

Masters An Italian Affair

Describing piazzas as lined with pizza shops, gelato, and caffès An Italian Affair gives such a vague description of Italy that it could be set anywhere. While the idea of the narrator being someone who has seen Italy many times may be responsible for the almost lack of interest in her surroundings it is over done to the point that a clear setting is often not given. When outside of the cities intense details about the beaches, mountains, and especially the mask of radioactive mud the narrator is given are finally described. None of these, however, is so strongly tied to Italy as to warrant the Title An ITALIAN Affair instead of just naming the novel An Affair. In addition to skimming over the physical aesthetics of Italy the people are also often forgotten. This is not to say that there are no Italians in the work but instead that the few Italians, mostly the narrator's close friends, are either written as too busy to spend a long time with the narrator, which limits their impact, or as having extremely clichèd comments which sets up the plot but doesn't characterize the local people. The most vibrant characters are, in fact, other foreigners, such as the French professor, on whom many lines are used describing mannerisms and history. Due to this An Italian Affair could be set in any vacation town or resort where a mud mask could be bought and a man found.