June 29, 2007


in europe the planes are noisy. especially on the way to italy. they talk talk talk. get up to find one another, stand in the aisles and talk.
i want to desperately to converse. i stink and it's obvious.
the wine is a bordeaux. i watch the man next to me drink, contemplating the label. i watch how he pours: only after he's emptied the glass, which he pours only a small way full. i do the same. itàs not very good. i imagine myself saying "che buono, si o no?" i imagine him saying, "no." i imagine myself laughing. "è francese." that way they know i'm on their side. i'm on the inside.

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