Emily and I saw The Leopard yesterday afternoon. Burt Lancaster looks at himself in the mirror, chamberpots in the background, and a tear rolls down his cheek. I wanted that scene to last for hours. You see his resignation to the passing of his life, and way of life. That big beautiful sad face. Italy is in the process of being unified under a constitutional monarchy. Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon spin on the ballroom floor until dawn, the dazzling new Italians.
I told Bob yesterday that I think it’d be best if we didn’t have contact for a while. Like maybe forever. He’s so angry and resentful, and can’t see me as anything but the spawn of Beelzebub. My good will, cheer, and offers of help only make him angrier and more resentful.
Garibaldi finally blasted his way through the gates and threw out the Hungarian occupiers of my home. Our way of life is gone–no, his way of life is gone. I spin on the dance floor with my dancing bears…