Lit/Pub #IV - The Wake Up Issue - Spring2024
The magazine of Professor Andrea di Robilant literary class at The American University of Rome. "Last year’s issue of Lit/Pub was about the slow return to a post-Covid world. This year, the initial theme was dreams – time to get on with it and think about the future. But the more we discussed what to put in the issue, the more it became apparent that a lingering wariness was still in the air, even a certain complacency. Hence the exhortatory title – The Wake Up Issue – which Isabella Klepikoff has deftly captured in the design of this year’s cover: a wolf resting by a Roman fountain. He looks to be resting, but his lively green eyes tell us he is stirring back to action."
The magazine of Professor Andrea di Robilant literary class at The American University of Rome.
"Last year’s issue of Lit/Pub was about the slow return to a post-Covid world. This year, the initial theme was dreams – time to get on with it and think about the future. But the more we discussed what to put in the issue, the more it became apparent that a lingering wariness was still in the air, even a certain complacency. Hence the exhortatory title – The Wake Up Issue – which Isabella Klepikoff has deftly captured in the design of this year’s cover: a wolf resting by a Roman fountain. He looks to be resting, but his lively green eyes tell us he is stirring back to action."
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Sidetracks<br />
letterings, dresses with animal prints and polka dots, plenty of paisley everywhere, and knotted scarves<br />
hanging here and there. It was impossible to tell what color the walls were, or where the floor ended<br />
and the walls began because clothes were scattered everywhere. <strong>The</strong> only empty space was a twofeet-wide<br />
square in the center of the room, but it was so small that instead of providing a tiny bit of<br />
wiggle-room it only enhanced the feeling of claustrophobia. <strong>The</strong> stench of mothballs made me gag.<br />
“What do you need?” Miss France asked me.<br />
<strong>The</strong> top of her hair tickled my nose.<br />
“Pants,” I said.<br />
“Ahh, pants, perfect, I have lots of pants. I have pants from England and France, I have pants<br />
from Turkey and also Italian pants. Mainly from France though, where I am from. What type of pants<br />
do you need, what type do you like?”<br />
Her manner of speaking, her random interjections, even her accent were giving me a headache.<br />
“I’m not sure. I seem to keep running out of clean ones. I guess any is fine.”<br />
As she pointed to a full dresser on one side of the room, I heard a loud “EXCUSE ME?” Miss<br />
France screeched again, tossing her hands in the air. “NO NO NO! No! I am very busy please! <strong>The</strong>re is<br />
no room!” She hurried over to the door, where another customer was holding a shirt and looking very<br />
alarmed.<br />
<strong>The</strong> pants were tiny. I cursed myself for falling for the colorful sign at the entrance and I<br />
cursed Miss France for the spell she cast on me. <strong>The</strong> smell, the clutter, and the yelling were making me<br />
panic. Her eyes terrified me. I wanted to get out as fast as I could, but I was afraid of leaving without<br />
purchasing anything.<br />
I scanned the cluttered room, desperately searching for my ticket out of that crazy store, until<br />
I saw the shirt I would buy: a purple thermal long sleeve, decorated with multicolored pearlescent<br />
buttons down the middle, and red sequin lettering on the collar.<br />
“I tell her I am busy, I have a customer, but no,” I heard Miss France muttering, “So she gives<br />
me 5 euros and I tell her ‘leave me.’”<br />
I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me or herself or some unseen third party. But I no longer<br />
cared. Quickly, the shirt, the shirt, the shirt.<br />
7
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