Bags In Time
We found a few old bags with whom we brought our world with us when we came from Canada to Sarnano. This is their story.
The Sarnano Man
The man never offered his name. The closest I ever had to a conversation was to say good morning. He did not acknowledge or seem to hear.
Signpost On The Road To Sarnano
A border surrounds and marks the shrine. It has become a signpost, a place to turn when you want to find the family style restaurant up the hill on the rutted gravel road.
The Expats Of Sarnano
The town of Sarnano offers a change for Expats who have left their countries of origin. Not only is it a smaller world, one can also feel how the days flow smoother in this medieval town.
Witness, By David Gerstel
There will be an end to this, our most current plague, and on that day there will be no more names to add onto glued paper. The board will be blank. But now is not that time.
Three On A Plane (A Christmas Carol)
On a plane, in the row ahead of me, a man was speaking to another two or three ahead of him. I picked up words that pulled me back 50 years.
The Butcher And His Wife
In Sarnano, when the weather is warm, the wind is calming and the sun has begun to set, I see the old man and his wife.
The Woman Across The Cortile
Her name is unknown to me. But I enjoy the sight of her in the window and the shadow dance as she crosses the room. It’s not affection, but comfort and association, the sharing of town, time and pain.
The Song Of Sarnano
Strangers come for the day and do not hear that Sarnano is special in ways that many towns do not share. The resident was going to try to explain the sound and silence to his young friend.