by Daniel Wakahisa

I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the Stern Fact, the Sad Self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.
Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803 – 1882]

493 copy

Dear Shaded Readers,

In the haunted house where I live souls come and go, according to a rhythm so ferocious patterns dissolve in deranged convolutions so comforting there's no need to answer the door. One might as well leave it open.

A week ago an unexpected guest arrived [they're all unexpected] bearing a Linhof, Polaroids and Sfogliatelle. This could only be Peppe Tortora, fashion photographer and ghost