In Love with France, At Home In Italy

While puttering around the kitchen, I often have music in the background, usually of the soothing classical variety. But when I came in from outside on this brilliantly sunny summer day in the Umbrian countryside, I was met by the unmistakable, raspy voice of Leonard Cohen singing “Suzanne.”  What could he be doing here? Fish out of water? My awareness of Leonard Cohen came late in life. One day his “Halleluiah” sent me reeling. I found myself trying to sort out the words amid the mystery:the danger of David gazing at Bathsheba and going for broke. In fact that last is a key word It’s not a cry you can hear at night It’s not somebody who has seen the light It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah Our place here was a total ruin, broken beyond belief, but we fixed it, and it seems to have had a similar effect on us.  I usually only turn on Cohen’s music when I’m in a particularly sensitive mood, and I would not have guessed that today would be a day that he would ...