La
Cucina -Prologue
I
lie luxuriantly on the table, the cool, silky oak sticking to my naked flesh.
Rump, thighs, plump. This
night is the culmination, the final lesson.
By the light of the candles I stretch out and watch l’Inglese as he
moves gently among the shadows on the far side of the kitchen.
The clattering of his pans punctuated occasionally by the sounds of the
summer night, the buzzing of a mosquito, the braying of a mule.
