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Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Roads around #Ravello 10. (Serialized Story in 12 Parts) by John von Daler

                      I looked incredulously at her as she stood up painfully and halted towards an alley at the side of the square. Not knowing consciously what to do, I allowed my unconscious mind to guide me. I followed her into the alley. Without looking back she turned the corner in the shadows and went down a slightly narrower alley. I followed. She rounded yet another corner into a still smaller way. I followed still. She entered a causeway only as wide as my shoulders. I continued behind her.
                     At last when I just had considered taking off my jacket to make room, my violin caught in the passage, stuck between the walls, ”Leave it behind, for god’s sake” she said and jumped lightly over a small wall. I reluctantly left the violin and followed her over the wall.
                     We stood in a small courtyard. I could see the water of the bay between the leaves of the lemon trees at the edge of the compound. There was a door at the other end with a sign reading, ”Villa d’Amore”. She went through
the door.
           I followed just in time to see her disappear up the stairs, her hips wagging perversely, a key in her hand. Hesitating I turned to the man at the desk and asked desperately, ”Is it all right to have visitors here?” The sullen fat man with a mustache like the wings of a crow growled, ”Prego, prego.” He motioned me up the stairs.
                     I climbed slowly up the thick wooden steps. The stairs were steep and winding and soon I had lost what sense of direction I had left. At last I reached a landing on which there only was one door. I pushed at it with my fingers and it slid open. In front of me was a panorama the likes of which I never had seen. This was the other side of Ravello, the hidden coast, which only could be guessed at from Scala. The water was as blue as Bing Crosby’s eyes and the small villages nestled on it like small Disney movies waiting to be shown. A golden bird flew back and forth across the window with ribbons in its beak, decorating the edges. (to be continued...)

Order my book: "Pieces: A Life in Eight Movements and a Prelude" (WiDo Publishing) from your favorite bookseller.

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