As well, another in the continuing saga of “the well-received traveler.”

Nearly everyone we know, here and at home, is drawn at some point of wonder to ask, “So what do you do?” “Nothing much,” by way of an answer, sounds a bit uncivil if not all wrong. And yet, there is a partial truth in it.

Sure, there’s plenty to report: like the 7,342 steps between breakfast and lunch this morning. Yet that leaves out the places we did or didn’t stop (and the way the clouds come and go, breaking or returning the chill).

Let one small part stand for the whole: between Mercato and Libertà, the two major piazzas above us, we pass a temporary shop displaying the pencil work of a native Spoletini artist.

Exchanging a deliberative glance, we agree to check it out, though we have no idea what to expect. Shortly, a man appears from the back. Between our limited Italian and his gallant English, we talk.

Lorenzo Zangheri, we learn, is an engineer. He uses his drawing skills in his work, sketching all sorts of system designs. Yet in his other life, the art is informed by a fantastic sort of “conceptual engineering.”

One piece he did was the design for a wedding invitation. I wish I had spent more time studying the work. Then perhaps I could have translated it from my mind’s eye to yours. Rebecca, surely, will know how.

The summation of our day, I suppose, comes down to the point of “slowing down, stilling time.” I have no idea at all how long we stayed in Lorenzo’s shop. He was ever so patient, and we were no less attentive.

The Sanguine technique alone, using the pencils he showed us at length, was a wonder. Must be something about the shade of dried blood. Think Leonardo’s self-portrait. Or look at the poor excuse of a reproduction above.

Above the dishes and the glasses, a cupboard of books.

Just before the power went out, I browsed thru a quarter-shelf.
Living in a Foreign Language, the first familiar title my eye caught.

Fans of L.A. Law will remember Jill Eikenberry and Michael Tucker.
Fans of books about “living abroad” may want to read their book.

No choice with power down: cave man heads outside to the light.
Taking in the rain, breathing in the air, a page-turner I begin again.