Ned Balbo

Marco Polo Welcomed at Moriana

split view with Nora Sturges's painting

That’s one solution: put up a façade. This villa, sheetrock-thin and midnight blue, whose courtyard is a painted bamboo curtain (trompe l’oeil fruit tree, effervescent fountain), welcomes you with falsehood undisguised. These women, too, each safe in her facade. One bows; the other stands beside a chair— your makeshift throne, bright purple, murex-dyed— as if to shade a potentate or pope, her parasol held high. Should you sit down or stand, unmoved? She’s fixed you lemonade strained salmon-pink, straw tilted on a glass you’re pretty sure is real. Fluffed slippers wait. “Don’t bow—” Your hostess takes your bag from you, eyes sycophantic, awed, or simply awful as she smiles: what does she think she’s owed? Their plot will play out in its own good time.... For now, you’ll hold your tongue: admire the stage-set, not the slum beyond; commend the paint job, not the rubble, vacant lot, bombed walls neglect and violence wrecked past all façade.   prev - 1.3 home - next