The Department of Lost Things

In the cavern of Milan cathedral, when still a young woman, I was shocked to see how people had asked St. Anthony to find their lost things. I was superstitious enough to understand the plea for something to return, but it was the juxtaposition of sock with loved one which jarred the senses. I suppose you love whom and what you choose, or don’t choose. For whoever said love was a choice? Yet the snaps and Polaroids of the missing looked back with red-tinged eyes or frozen smiles. There was something sad and raw about the emotions of those whose … Continue reading The Department of Lost Things