When I read the word piazza, I’m transported. Okay, that’s not completely true. Sometimes I misread the word as pizza. Which of course doesn’t make sense in the context of the sentence, and I quickly recover and read it correctly. At that point, I inevitably get a vivid image of a small wrought iron table, in a cluster of similar tables. There’s a glass of red wine, a white cloth napkin, and a huge slice of pepperoni pizza. There’s a flower stall nearby, and an artist set up across the street, paint palette and paintbrush in hand, capturing the scene. Well, I don’t always visualize the painter. But the rest of pizza in the piazza is always the same. And one day I’ll make that dream true. Well, maybe not the pepperoni, as I don’t think that’s a feature of traditional Italian pizza. I’m guessing you already know a piazza is a public square or market. And what do you visualize when you hear it?

3 thoughts on “Piazza

  1. I recall the Spanish Steps and walking along Via Condotti. Unfortunately sometimes the memory of all of the graffiti intrudes. Since I am an artist I am able to edit it out of my mind wih my imaginarary eraser. Mary

  2. Pingback: Grotto « Bon Mots

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