Reading Italo, I see Italian youths preparing to swim while il Duce prepares for war. At home, on our couch, while afternoon leisure blends with our tea, a reporter speaks to a background of song: Australia may soon be under attack. The words overlap with piano and strings and my mind hears, I am titanium.

Book Travellers: For Italo Calvino

Italo, I have often had this dream: A bookshop winds on spiral stairs, with shelves Inviting eager eyes to search for names And spines which lie, “Yes, I am here; it’s me.” Italo, in my dream it always seems That though my search for perfect books will delve Across each shelf, the titles play theseContinue reading “Book Travellers: For Italo Calvino”