Salem Willows, MA. Spring, 1980?

Don't you love photobooths? Here we are -- my friends John and Deborah and I -- at the honky-tonk Salem Willows summer amusement boardwalk, fresh from our psychic reading with a woman named Donna Lee Caramello. I remember that she had long fingernails and that she held her hands above mine over the selected cards and her hands trembled as if channelling some spiritual energy. I tried not to laugh. But she did say that I'd meet a red-haired King of Diamonds. And I soon did.

Castel Sant’Angelo, Rome. October, 1984

Here we are at stop #3 on my Tosca tour of the Eternal Città. Act 1: The baroque church of Sant’Andrea della Valle, where the jealous and fiery dark-haired diva grills her lover Mario about why the Madonna he’s painting is so blonde and blue-eyed. Act 2: The Michelangelo-designed Palazzo Farnese, just a few blocks away (now the French Embassy and closed to the public), where she bargains with the mean and nasty Scarpia, kills him and, as she stands over his dead body scoffs, “And in front of this guy all Rome trembled.” Across town, Act 3’s castello, fortress of the popes, connected to the Vatican by private underground tunnels, where the imprisoned Mario awaits his fate. Alas, Scarpia has been more double-crossing than either of the lovers imagined; (spoiler alert) Mario is killed by firing squad and Tosca takes a flying leap from the parapet. No such hijinks the day that my beloved Patrice Giselle snapped this photo, complete with vanishing-point perspective, autumnal weather...and my suede jacket bought earlier at Florence’s San Lorenzo outdoor market. Kisses.