CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
If there was ever any doubt that Italy is the most romantic country in the world, then perhaps the fact that they have turned the least pleasant part of life (that is, death) into a beautiful, joyous celebration will convince you. I’m lucky and honored enough to spend All Souls’ Day in the countryside of Florence with a real Italian family (my lover, Cristiano’s, to be precise). Here, I sample traditional fire-roasted chestnuts and watch processions of people heading to graveyards carrying bouquets of chrysanthemums and flaming torches. Death, for the Italians, seems to be a continuation of life, the next step in eternal love. Cristiano tells me he takes great comfort in knowing that his spirit will never be forgotten after he is no longer walking the earth. In turn,
