She never blows her nose. A form of speech: the lesser for the greater.
Rounded and ripened: rounded by the lathe of intermarriage and ripened in the forcing-house of the seclusion of her race.
A ricefield near Vercelli under creamy summer haze. the wings of her drooping hat shadow her false smile. Shadows streak her falsely smiling face, smitten by the hot creamy light, grey wheyhued shadows under the jawbones, streaks of eggyolk yellow on the moistened brow, rancid yellow humour lurking within the softened pulp of the eyes.