S E A S O N A L

Ettore pushed his chair back and raised his glass to the table gathered under the old pergola. He swallowed, and after a beat, offered this through his waxed mustache:“We toast the seasons tonight! Let us perform a samba with the velocity of life – the vicissitudes left and right of the location we just got used to. Tonight we pause to honor the dance itself. Viva la rivoluzione!” As the glass met his lips, the table erupted in yalps and wild hoots. Chin chin chin chin went the crystal goblets and the small hand-blown glasses. Strands from chignons flew through the air, claret spilled from glasses, arms flailed in solidarity! Baubles glistened on wrists and ear lobes in the candlelight. Only the linen lay still as a witness to this scene of unhinged joy straight out of an unseen Visconti film. Audible above the cheers, the band started up sultry and low with a rendition of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah.