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Park your uninsured clunker wrong side of the street and when thieves come
by your car won’t be anointed with the oil of possibility. You won’t have
to buy a replacement, which means there’s enough money this spring to go to
Tuscany where you meet a man who understands the implications of the oil of
possibility and you decide to stay in Tuscany. Where everything is better.
You don’t need a car, while basking in superior Tuscan sun. Feast on
crostini, panzanella, olives, Umbrian Orvieto. Renovate his Tuscan villa.
Forget your New York walls, painted dingy seed-pearl, eggshell, bone-white
or even ivory-mist. Lust after Giambologna’s bronze cock in the Bargello,
have access to the one possessed by your new life-partner-possibility. But
if you could see the future with certainty, you’d know that after six months
in Tuscany, your new life-partner-possibility who seems so rich in
possibility becomes impossible in Tuscany. You might not leave for Tuscany
after all. That cramped viewless one-bedroom apartment you thought to leave
behind might turn into an object of desire.
In either kitchen, you can array a
buffet of disappointments. Even if you have the exact ingredients to
assemble each choice. Even if you believe you know exactly what to do.
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