FRUITS OF THE SEA
On the island of Burano, where women,
sitting at their front doors for the light, make lace
and men fish in the lagoon, and houses
are painted the profound colours of sun and sea,
there is a family owned restaurant
Da Romano (opposite the headquarters
of the Communist Party) whose first owner
encouraged those painters rejected
for the first Biennale to hang their work
on his walls – since when artists of all kinds
have come: Miro, for example, Matisse,
Pound, Pirandello, Kubrick, De Niro;
most leaving (in addition, one hopes
to a good tip) at least their signature
in the visitors’ book. I sit where Callas
may have sat or Chaplin and eat, with awe,
a modest plate of fritto misto de mare
– octopus and prawns and scallops and squid
and whitebait dipped in semolina flour,
deep fried in olive oil.
Ashen Venema
September 27, 2018Familiar ground from decades ago. You catch the vibe I remember, and I’m enchanted.