Trafika Europe 14 - Italian Piazza

Piero Schiavo Campo

“Of course. If you know me, you’ll know my address.” “How should I introduce myself?” “Grimaud will do. Introduce yourself as Grimaud: they’ll let you in.” The radiant creature moved away, wafting gracefully across the salon. I seized the opportunity to send a quick message to Silver: “We’ve finished here. We need to talk. Let ’s meet at Admiral Bembow’s.” ● At Silver ’s inn, all traces of scantily-clad women on expensive futons had vanished. The far end of the tavern was as ill-lit as the rest of the place but, instead of Go down you blood red roses , two gentlemen of fortune were singing an unfamiliar sailing song, whose refrain went on about Jamestown homeward bound , or something. It wasn’t bad. Silver had become Long John again. He collapsed onto the wooden bench opposite mine, dropping his crutch to the floor. Jolted, the parrot on his shoulder emitted a strangled cry, before shrieking “ Peso de a Ocho! ” as if all his tail feathers were being pulled out. “Congratulations, you did a fantastic job today.” The pirate’s avatar blushed. With a goofy smile, he placed his outstretched arms between his legs, like a twelve year-old schoolgirl being awarded by her

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