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On one side there was Gino and Rasetti, the mountains, the “black schists,” the crystals, the insects; on the other was Mario, my sister Paola, and the Ternis who detested the mountains and loved stuffy rooms with the windows closed, dimmed lights, and cafés. This latter group loved the paintings o…

“I’m bored!” my mother said. “I have nothing to do anymore, there’s nothing more for me to do in this place. Everyone has left. I’m bored!”

“You’re bored,” my father responded, “because you have no inner life.”

“He is someone,” my mother said, “who is very sophisticated, intelligent, translates from Russian, and does beautiful translations.”

“But,” my father said, “he is very ugly. Jews are notoriously ugly.”

“And you?” said my mother. “You’re not Jewish?”

“I am, in fact, ugly too,” my father sai…