We went down in the biblical sense to the city again. My wife and I. She went with me, in a womanly way, knowing that her husband was seeking to capture some things that are lost and I was conscious of the nadir, perhaps the knell, of a micro culture that faded before my eyes. Life slips through our fingers. It is not unlike cupping your hands and dipping them into a stream to bring forth water and sip it, cold and fresh, like truth, and have most of it…
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Nino Ricci was the featured guest of the third edition of the Librissimi Toronto Italian Book Festival, held online on…
“Piazza Navona, Rome” is the grand prize winner of the 2020 Accenti “Capture an Italian Moment” Photo Contest. The photo…
Relatively few Canadian writers and artists of Italian heritage openly identify as queer through their writings and in interviews. In…
SAPLING Sunday mornings, Mom attends mass at St. Ambrose Church while Dad takes me to High Park where I play…
“Since the house is on fire, let us warm ourselves.” (Italian proverb) Monday, 9 a.m. Not writing. Dim, dreary…
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