Naples, 1999 1

I loved Naples. The pictures don’t begin to express what i felt while there. In a large sense I’d left Europe for a metropolis of the East. The city is both loud and inward dwelling, tiny shrines to saints, with pictures, candles and flowers, set in alleys in line with rude graffiti words and drawings, vaginas, penises; palaces nestled in slums, two magnificent museums, one of them, an ex-royal palace full of Raphaels, nearly always empty of patrons. And the Italian spoken there — propulsive, mocking in accent, abbreviated in expression. I loved all of it. (cont.)

Part Two