Travel fatigue is setting in for me and, I sense, also for readers of this blog. If you’re still reading, thanks for hanging in there. Though tired, I remain content and, having settled into a daily routine, do rather feel as if I’m living like a local. For example, I’ve become attuned to the coming-and-going rhythms of my neighborhood such as: - parents taking their kids to and from the nearby park in the afternoons (children’s laughter and chatter echo off the stucco walls lining our narrow street) Halloween Astronaut - the elegant-shoe shoemaker hunched over his laptop every time I pass his window - opera singing wafting through my window after dark from the nearby Chiesa di Santa Monaca nighly performance. - how the woman who...