islands, 126 canals, 410 bridges, 1880 streets. You also know that Venice is not easy to maintain. My nephew Carlo had made an in-depth study on the state of corrosion of the walls, foundations and pile dwellings, complete with statistics and photographs. I personally brought everything to Mussolini, telling him that it was necessary to take action with the utmost urgency. But until today nobody has done anything. Let us hope that they decide to do something because every year it is worse and it would be a real crime to let a city die of neglect that - can't find any? - is truly extraordinary."
"Really extraordinary," Papa said, looking at her with admiration.
"I'm glad you're happy in Venice. You are writing at this time, Mr. Hemingway?"
"A little*."smiled Papa.
"Adriana also writes. She writes poems, but to tell the truth, so, without any rhyme, they don't seem like poems at all. But I understand that although a little mysterious, they are beautiful thoughts, which do her honor. Ah, here is Dora!"
At the door Mom was looking at us, amazed. As Aunt Clo briskly walked back to the bookshelf I explained to my mother that I had to go to Harry's because the Kechlers were there. Papa said she hoped she would come too but she immediately said no thanks, she didn't want to go out and as to me it seemed to her that lastly I had gone a little too often, to Harry's: I would stay at home, once in a while. Not today, I insisted: today Papa had also invited Marino to please me.
"What are you discussing?" Aunt Clo asked, returning to us with the vermuttino for my mother.
"Hemingway invited me to breakfast with Luisa and Federico who are from Friuli for the day. What would you say if mom stayed with you?"
"Yes, Dora, stay and keep me company. You know, today there is a very good pasta-and-beans."
*said in Spanish
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