Time to start stealing time in the margins, again. The third place, or in my case the fourth, is a Cafe on Boylston in Fenway, not to be confused with her sister of the same name and on the same street by Berklee:Pavement.
Strangely enough, this was opened by a Rao's alumnus. It has that bit of time/space anomaly in it, as the original Rao's once did. A close team of barristi. A familiarity among and with the regulars. A cue of significant music upon occasion. Richard, a baby-faced former Amherst denizen, perhaps from Peoples' Market.
The difference? I am much more reserved and diligent, conscious of myself, my age, my roles.
So while I somehow expect a parade of men and women out of a Fellini scene, each come to represent something from my past eras, and the first two acts of the script, if they were to show I would take a different lesson. It has nothing to do with me. I am in their story. Drop the ego and white male sense of centrality.
Well, I am trying that on, anyway.
