Chapter 8Iarrived at my home in Muriaglio a little before 6:00 p.m. I could relax here. The village is so small, only about two hundred people; any strangers in town would be noticed at once. It was too early for dinner, so I decided to work on a poem I had started. I poured myself an iced tea, grabbed a cigar and a lightweight jacket, and went out to the terrace to write. It was almost night, just a ribbon of red on the horizon just above the roofs of the village. It was calm with a chill in the air.
Being told Cindy was coming to the baptism threw me for a loop. It stirred a lot of suppressed emotions. Putting them on paper in the form of a poem was my way of dealing with them. I struggled with finding the right words to add to the poem for about an hour before putting it away. I was ge
