European types. Who knew who Erasmus was. Who had seen the Strasbourg altarpiece. Who’d heard opera in Bayreuth and La Scala in Italy. Who’d visited Nietzsche’s boulder at Surlej. Who’d hung out in Èze, the village where Blanchot wrote all those masterpieces. Who’d sailed down the Danube, for fuck’s sake. Who knew Florence, like, inside out.
Work in Progress 