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- Элизабет Гилберт
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- Ешь, молись, люби
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"
]
…
YOU
DON
’
T
HAVE
A
HEART
,
ALBERTINI
!
!
!
!
YOU
’
RE
A
FAKER
!
Look
,
nothing
happened
…
Come
on
,
come
on
,
hey
,
yes
…
Much
better
,
Albertini
,
much
better
,
yes
yes
yes
,
there
it
is
,
beautiful
,
brilliant
,
oh
,
excellent
,
there
it
is
now
…
in
the
goal
,
in
the
goal
,
in
the
-
FUUUUUCK
YOUUUUUUU
!
!
!
Oh
,
it
was
such
an
exquisite
and
lucky
moment
in
my
life
to
be
sitting
right
in
front
of
this
man
.
I
loved
every
word
out
of
his
mouth
.
I
wanted
to
lean
my
head
back
into
his
old
lap
and
let
him
pour
his
eloquent
curses
into
my
ears
forever
.
And
it
wasn
’
t
just
him
!
The
whole
stadium
was
full
of
such
soliloquies
.
At
such
high
fervor
!
Whenever
there
was
some
grave
miscarriage
of
justice
on
the
field
,
the
entire
stadium
would
rise
to
its
feet
,
every
man
waving
his
arms
in
outrage
and
cursing
,
as
if
all
20
,
000
of
them
had
just
been
in
a
traffic
altercation
.
The
Lazio
players
were
no
less
dramatic
than
their
fans
,
rolling
on
the
ground
in
pain
like
death
scenes
from
Julius
Caesar
,
totally
playing
to
the
back
row
,
then
jumping
up
on
their
feet
two
seconds
later
to
lead
another
attack
on
the
goal
.
Lazio
lost
,
though
.
Needing
to
be
cheered
up
after
the
game
,
Luca
Spaghetti
asked
his
friends
,
"
Should
we
go
out
?
"
I
assumed
this
meant
,
"
Should
we
go
out
to
a
bar
?
"
That
’
s
what
sports
fans
in
America
would
do
if
their
team
had
just
lost
.
They
’
d
go
to
a
bar
and
get
good
and
drunk
.
And
not
just
Americans
would
do
this
-
so
would
the
English
,
the
Australians
,
the
Germans
…
everyone
,
right
?
But
Luca
and
his
friends
didn
’
t
go
out
to
a
bar
to
cheer
themselves
up
.
They
went
to
a
bakery
A
small
,
innocuous
bakery
hidden
in
a
basement
in
a
nondescript
district
in
Rome
.
The
place
was
crowded
that
Sunday
night
.
But
it
always
is
crowded
after
the
games
.
The
Lazio
fans
always
stop
here
on
their
way
home
from
the
stadium
to
stand
in
the
street
for
hours
,
leaning
up
against
their
motorcycles
,
talking
about
the
game
,
looking
macho
as
anything
,
and
eating
cream
puffs
.
I
love
Italy
.
I
am
learning
about
twenty
new
Italian
words
a
day
.
I
’
m
always
studying
,
flipping
through
my
index
cards
while
I
walk
around
the
city
,
dodging
local
pedestrians
.
Where
am
I
getting
the
brain
space
to
store
these
words
?
I
’
m
hoping
that
maybe
my
mind
has
decided
to
clear
out
some
old
negative
thoughts
and
sad
memories
and
replace
them
with
these
shiny
new
words
.
I
work
hard
at
Italian
,
but
I
keep
hoping
it
will
one
day
just
be
revealed
to
me
,
whole
,
perfect
.
One
day
I
will
open
my
mouth
and
be
magically
fluent
.
Then
I
will
be
a
real
Italian
girl
,
instead
of
a
total
American
who
still
can
’
t
hear
someone
call
across
the
street
to
his
friend
Marco
without
wanting
instinctively
to
yell
back
"
Polo
!
"
I
wish
that
Italian
would
simply
take
up
residence
within
me
,
but
there
are
so
many
glitches
in
this
language
.
Like
,
why
are
the
Italian
words
for
"
tree
"
and
"
hotel
"
(
albero
vs
.
albergo
)
so
very
similar
?
This
causes
me
to
keep
accidentally
telling
people
that
I
grew
up
on
"
a
Christmas
hotel
farm
"
instead
of
the
more
accurate
and
slightly
less
surreal
description
:
"
Christmas
tree
farm
.
"
And
then
there
are
words
with
double
or
even
triple
meanings
.
For
instance
:
tasso
.
Which
can
mean
either
interest
rate
,
badger
,
or
yew
tree
.
Depending
on
the
context
,
I
suppose
.
Most
upsetting
to
me
is
when
I
stumble
on
Italian
words
that
are
actually
-
I
hate
to
say
it
-
ugly
.
I
take
this
as
almost
a
personal
affront
.
I
’
m
sorry
,
but
I
didn
’
t
come
all
the
way
to
Italy
to
learn
how
to
say
a
word
like
schermo
(
screen
)
.
Still
,
overall
it
’
s
so
worthwhile
.
It
’
s
mostly
a
pure
pleasure
.
