There is a woman
Sitting in an internet cafe on the island of Vis in Croatia on Thursday morning – it’s hot outside and the woman is an hour away from plunging into the cool, refreshing waters of the Adriatic. When she is swimming underwater with her goggles, her thoughts will be on the cicadas song and the fat, juicy tomato that awaits her lunch under a pine tree. She’ll come out of the water and dry herself on a large stone baked warm by the Mediterranean sun. And for one fleeting moment, while she is disoriented between land and sea, an image of me will flash in front of her.
To her, I send this poem:
La Vita Nuova
In that book which is
My memory . . .
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words . . .
Here begins a new life– Dante Alighieri