At night, the city turns into a food desert. You know you shouldn’t use that word lightly, but it’s what comes to mind as you hit up one grocery store after the other, and find that number one is missing artichoke hearts and polenta; number two has polenta, but still no artichokes, and then finally, third time’s a charm, and score! you have your artichoke hearts.
Last night I dreamt of a beautiful man. He was tall and hunched over, and he was holding a book beneath his arm. He was big and strong and beautiful. Who is he? He is carved out of stone. Please don’t sell him. He is very precious, you must keep him. Yes, he is made of stone, but to me he is a real person. He is big and beautiful. When you leave here, go see him. I think he is… hiding… downstairs. If you go straight, there’s a chapel or something; a chapel, I think. He’s hiding there. Go see him. I saw him in my dreams. No, he doesn’t talk, he is made of stone, but he’s real. He is very beautiful. Maybe he is that man who was your husband? No? Why not? You must go see him.
In the morning, climb out of bed, and begin by making the polenta crust. Bring the broth and water to a boil, and then whisk, whisk, whisk in the polenta. It bubbles and thickens, and amuses you. Put a lid on it, let it simmer, make coffee. Take it out to the balcony. This view, it never ceases to take your breath away.
Your mother is… The daughter of your grandmother who lived for a short time at your mother’s house. An older lady who lived for a short time at your mother’s. Your grandmother. She’s the mother of your father. You want me to tell you who she is? You want me to tell you her name? When she was a young girl? Or now? When she was little she liked things that were old. She was an old type of girl. What’s her name? I don’t know. She liked…. She liked… your father, but he didn’t have a beard then. Why does he have a beard? In fact, it doesn’t suit him. Yes, I’d like to taste your quiche. Do you think Margie will think to bring us plates? You’re right, this isn’t Margie, but she also answers when I call her Margie. Thank you, cherie. You took only a little bit. It’s a quiche. Where is she? Read more…