Abstract
I've always been a country of one. There's a certain distance in my makeup, a measured separation like my old's man, I guess, that I've worked at times to reduce, or thought of working, or said the hell with it.
I like to tell my wife. I say to my wife. I tell her not to give up on me. I tell her there's an Italian word, or a Latin word, that explains everything. Then I tell her the word.
She says, What does this explain? And she answers, Nothing.
The word that explains nothing in this case is lontananza. Distance or remoteness, sure.
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