Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 12

           )NowshewantedtoknowwhereIwasfrom.ItoldherIwasfromNewYork,andaskedwhereshewasfrom.Duh-shewasfromRome.Hearingthis,Iclappedmyhandslikeababy.Ah,Rome!BeautifulRome!IloveRome!PrettyRome!Shelistenedtomyprimitiverhapsodieswithskepticism.ThenshegotdowntoitandaskedmeifIwasmarried.ItoldherIwasdivorced.ThiswasthefirsttimeI’dsaidittoanyone,andhereIwas,sayingitinItalian.Ofcourseshedemanded,"Perche?"Well…"why"isahardquestiontoanswerinanylanguage.Istammered,thenfinallycameupwith"L’abbiamorotto"(Webrokeit).

           Shenodded,stoodup,walkedupthestreettoherbusstop,gotonherbusanddidnoteventurnaroundtolookatmeagain.Wasshemadatme?Strangely,Iwaitedforheronthatparkbenchfortwentyminutes,thinkingagainstreasonthatshemightcomebackandcontinueourconversation,butsheneverreturned.HernamewasCeleste,pronouncedwithasharpch,asincello.

           Laterintheday,Ifoundalibrary.Dearme,howIlovealibrary.BecauseweareinRome,thislibraryisabeautifuloldthing,andwithinitthereisacourtyardgardenwhichyou’dneverhaveguessedexistedifyou’donlylookedattheplacefromthestreet.Thegardenisaperfectsquare,dottedwithorangetreesand,inthecenter,afountain.ThisfountainwasgoingtobeacontenderformyfavoriteinRome,Icouldtellimmediately,thoughitwasunlikeanyI’dseensofar.Itwasnotcarvedofimperialmarble,forstarters.Thiswasasmallgreen,mossy,organicfountain.Itwaslikeashaggy,leakingbushofferns

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