p.s. A great little pleasure: This evening when I got home, I found a fresh loaf of bread on the counter that Tom had bought for me from a little Italian grocery store. I was famished and it was exactly what was called for. A gesture like this means something from a person who can't eat wheat himself. I tore into it and splashed a little bit of cold white wine into a glass. Bread + wine = divine.
The more I look at the woman up there, the more it looks like she's eating bread too fast to chew it properly.
