still up at 5:30am a saturday morning (/friday night) listening to italian prog readings of dante's inferno, discussing ezra pound's continued influence in italy. apparently no one is allowed (supposed) to talk about him because of his alignment with mussolini's fascism. my host was told about him by an old friend of his, a far right italian terrorist maoist nazi - if there is one thing to be said for such a group, it is that they do a great book club.
mornings in catania come equipped with the sounds of building work, children, vociferous conversations (with, i am certain despite the people being invisible) extravagent hand gestures, bells and scooters, western pop and music which might be music or might, again, just be scooters. roadsigns differ: for example the 'children crossing' sign does genuinely look like they are fleeing from gunfire, a change from the british version where it appears that the children have been petrified mid-skip.
concert tonight, beneath sawn off palm trees and broken walls. and the very nicely done up annexia. yep
