The sun was bright the following morning, and the air was cool. It would warm up by midday, but I had come to enjoy my new routine of walking along the streets of Mazara del Vallo to the Café Amadeo. Vito offered an endless litany of facts and his story-telling expertise made all these ancient details come alive. I could see the cities develop and the people interact. I could easily imagine their struggles and triumphs, how they built their homes and temples, how the social institutions and traditions evolved, even how their food was cooked and tasted.
Sliding into the chair by our corner table, I smiled as the barista delivered my cup of espresso. As soon as I lifted it to my lips, Vito ducked in through the door, his hat askew and his thin gray hair splayed out from under its brim.
“He
