a nobody, a smoking cigarette, at the station

peripheries in the imagination

Outside it is blazing heat, and we take momentary refuge in an old palazzo, refurbished, like so many southern european sites of grandeur, into a contemporary art gallery. The internal courtyard is cool; the clock that sits in its tower over the gateway to the courtyard is stopped. Above, the clouds roll over in slow succession, reshaping high in the ai…

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