Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 33

           )

           IaskedGiulio,"What’sthewordinNaples?"HeknowsthesouthofItalywell.

           "FIGHT,"hedecides."Whatwasthewordinyourfamilywhenyouweregrowingup?"

           Thatonewasdifficult.IwastryingtothinkofasinglewordthatsomehowcombinesbothFRUGALandIRREVERENT.ButGiuliowasalreadyontothenextandmostobviousquestion:"What’syourword?"

           Nowthat,Idefinitelycouldnotanswer.

           Andstill,afterafewweeksofthinkingaboutit,Ican’tansweritanybetternow.Iknowsomewordsthatitdefinitelyisn’t.It’snotMARRIAGE,that’sevident.It’snotFAMILY(thoughthiswasthewordofthetownI’dlivedinforafewyearswithmyhusband,andsinceIdidnotfitwiththatword,thiswasabigcauseofmysuffering).It’snotDEPRESSIONanymore,thankheavens.I’mnotconcernedthatIshareStockholm’swordofCONFORM.ButIdon’tfeelthatI’mentirelyinhabitingNewYorkCity’sACHIEVEanymore,either,thoughthathadindeedbeenmywordallthroughoutmytwenties.MywordmightbeSEEK.(Thenagain,let’sbehonest-itmightjustaseasilybeHIDE.)OverthelastmonthsinItaly,mywordhaslargelybeenPLEASURE,butthatworddoesn’tmatcheverysinglepartofme,orIwouldn’tbesoeagertogetmyselftoIndia.MywordmightbeDEVOTION,thoughthismakesmesoundlikemoreofagoody-goodythanIamanddoesn’ttakeintoaccounthowmuchwineI’vebeendrinking.

           Idon’tknowtheanswer,andIsupposethat’swhatthisyearofjourneyingisabout.Findingmyword.ButonethingIcansaywithallassurance-itain’tSEX.

           OrsoIclaim,anyhow.

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