All well, I guess. The mosaicists have gone home happy. I haven’t been in there to look yet. The step count is only 1684. Appalling. C. and I got once around the garden. I didn’t feel up to a second circuit. I’ve ribbed on a bit on the Polliwog, not as much as hoped, and am nearly – but not quite – ready to start the short-row shaping for the back.

 

I’m pretty well ready for tomorrow’s Italian. I need to do some more Dante, but I think I’m ready to talk about Pirandello. The play (Six characters in search of an author) is, at least in part, about the contrast between il vero and il verosimile. That thought is easier to express in Italian. Maybe I’m making progress.

 

But back here in real life, I have given up and gone forth in search of easy-reading. I have lit upon “The Appeal” by Janice Hallett --  recommended to me by Amazon – and am enjoying it very much. So far, it’s a compendium of messages, mostly emails, among various people. We know that there has been a crime, and that these messages are being passed among lawyers. But we have no idea who did what to whom. I’m finding it a lot of fun.