"All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered."
…perché a noi i cinghiali piacciono. Con la polenta.
The following story is found in the Gretla, an Icelandic Saga, composed in the thirteenth century, or that comes to us in the form then given to it; but it is a redaction of a Saga of much earlier date. Most of it is thoroughly
There are cities that seduce by excess, by grand vertical gestures, by spectacle, by the dazzling promise of visibility. And there are others, quieter ones, that prefer to act by undercurrent, by persistence, by relation. Milan belongs to the second kind, in my opinion. And
I was born at Sawley, where the shadow of Pendle Hill falls at sunrise. I suppose Sawley sprang up into a village in the time of the monks, who had an abbey there. Many of the cottages are strange old places; others, again, are built
The following story is found in the Gretla, an Icelandic Saga, composed in the thirteenth century, or that comes to us in the form then given to it; but it is a redaction of a Saga of much earlier date. Most of it is thoroughly
There are cities that seduce by excess, by grand vertical gestures, by spectacle, by the dazzling promise of visibility. And there are others, quieter ones, that prefer to act by undercurrent, by persistence, by relation. Milan belongs to the second kind, in my opinion. And
I was born at Sawley, where the shadow of Pendle Hill falls at sunrise. I suppose Sawley sprang up into a village in the time of the monks, who had an abbey there. Many of the cottages are strange old places; others, again, are built
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