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              What does one do when one has a ridiculously busy week significantly de-busified with a scooter accident and doctor’s orders to stay in bed?  One sets up a studio on the floor and splatters paints.
              36″ by 48 ” of nuthin’ but palette knife and a lot of sappy Italian music to aid in the inspiration.
             This has always been my stereotype of Italy, and this is still how I envision the country, even after spending a few months in the greyer colors of Ancona, the whites and browns of the northern regions, and all of the cooler winter shades inbetween.  I see the bright oranges and rustic reds of the terracotta walls of the south, I see the sepia earth and the clear blue skies of the hilly countryside, I see the yellows and the umbers of gardens containing plum wines and ripe tomatoes.  I see the warmth of not only the summer sun, but also of the smiles of the people and the giggles of barefoot children and the beauty of the sunsets.  I see passion and comfort, happiness and la dolce vita.
              I have learned many of the kinks of living a life in Italy: the absurd organization (or lack of?) of the post office, the limited hours posted on business doors, the headlines of political sections of newspapers, the tolls of the highways, the constant buzz of unemployment and tension.  But, when I close my eyes, these bold colors are the ones I see- and I hope that this will never change.