On making human contact.

Three older gentlemen are walking back and forth across Piazza Roma in Carbonia. Chatting. It's going on 10 in the morning. On a sunny day. And I'm sensing that the gentlemen are enjoying the good life, Italian-style. By strolling every morning. On the piazza. They are walking towards me now. About halfway across the piazza. My only regret is that I won't join them. Because I don't speak Italian. No doubt about it. They are speaking Italian. I'm eavesdropping. While hardly understanding a word. If they spoke English, I'd most likely join them. And we'd exchange pleasantries. They are probably wondering about me sitting on a ledge. Busily writing. About them. Do they know that they are the object of my attention? Maybe I will take my camera. And take a picture. In other words, invade their privacy. That may finally arouse their curiosity. And they might come over and talk to me. And I can tell them I don't speak Italian. That I am an American. Then we will have made human contact. --Jim Broede