the last section of the old medieval wall in Milan. after so many months of staring at the consecutive rings of this city, i could finally touch them.
Milan
jetlagged.
11 days, give or take. confirmation that hell exists on earth and it is called terminal 5 at heathrow. milano-venezia-milano. >1000 pictures and note that italy does not permit photos inside its museums. a half-dozen books, a vintage district map, prints and postcards, and a very important mask.
now my mind is set to whirl and yet i have to think about going back to work tomorrow! hurrah! boo! hurrah!
oh and amidst all the miles of walking/trams/waterbuses/trains and Looking i had an acceptance: a very old little piece called “all our frames are dust” will be up in late november in metazen. thank you christopher!
and tomorrow we go
milan and venice, i will be demanding things of you.
it was 18 months ago that i went to paris to try and get a grip on the wolves (and the title may change now, though talassio and malcolm are quite set in stone). when i compare my maps and notes to those for italy, i will concede: outlining-types, you have an advantage. in paris i was everywhere, looking at everything. granted i hope to get two books out of that trip, but this prequel was surprisingly easy to plan, and has even left room in the itinerary for an actual, ah, vacation.
nothing to do with having written a solid draft first, of course.
i hope to be done by december. though i was having all sorts of weird backstory thoughts today, which might again change, oh, not the spine of talassio, but some of the inflections . . . we shall see. more thought is needed.