My feet were dangling over a steep fall as I sat on the side of the narrow road and sketched this view of houses looking out over Barga with Monte Pania in the background.
I heard shuffling footsteps but didn't turn round. Heavy breathing and the pungent whiff of smoker's shag. Then the footsteps shuffled off as a grumbly old voice said 'Buon lavoro, signor.'
That's 'good work' in Italian! I called after him, 'Grazie!' He waved his stick jauntily and shuffled some more.
© DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz www.don-donovan.blogspot.co.nz
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