An exotic place. An exotic life.

Exotic. That’s my perception of Italy and Europe. Far more exotic than America.  Exotic, of course, is in the mind of the beholder.  An impression. Of a place as distant and alluring and exciting. Very, very different.  Seem to me that  I’ve lived an exotic life. Even in America. In Minnesota. No matter where I am.  I work myself into an exotic state of mind. I cultivate the exotic.   My Italian true love, for instance. She’s the most exotic woman in the world.  She enlivens me. Makes me feel alive. Passionate. Tempestuous. Impulsive.    As if I am living in Paradise.  An exotic place. An exotic life. –Jim Broede