At Swim Two Words

At Swim Two Words

At Swim Two Words

Philip Treacy, another Ahascragh fella.

Philip Treacy, another Ahascragh fella.

In Ireland, everything was grand.

Dublin was grand; Dublin was lovely. Why wouldn’t I like a city where most of the people looked like they could be my cousins and everyone sounded like my father?

Dublin was also very cosmopolitan. Three of the Internet cafes I’d given up searching for in Italy flourished within a few blocks of my hotel. Grafton Street store windows flaunted styles Soho might envy, while restaurant menus featured salads of mesclun. Banner ads on the sides of buses offered help with depression. Things had changed since … more

venice again

Venice Again

La Serenissima mirrors the labyrinth
of the human heart.

Venice seduced me before the water taxi crossed the lagoon from Aeroporto Marco Polo. Dazzled by the light, the water, the famous silhouettes assuming their fantastic shapes through the early morning mist, I surrendered to the city at first sight.

On my honeymoon, I wondered if this meant I was unfaithful.

Questions of fidelity seemed unimportant once we reached the small landing dock of the hotel Monaco e Grand Canal. The youngest porter had stolen his face from a coin. The concierge’s deep eyes had winked at years of … more