West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles.
He was that most singular and startling craftsman of the buildin.
The latter novella opens with virtuoso description: His name was Frank Gagliano, and he did not believe in God.
West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles.
Lean as a spider, he wore a leather cap and puttees the year around, and he was so bowlegged a dog could lope between his knees without touching them.
Like my father, Frank came from Torcella Peligna, a cliff-hugging town in the Abruzzi.
He was that most singular and startling craftsman of the building trade-a left-handed bricklayer.
The latter novella opens with virtuoso description: His name was Frank Gagliano, and he did not believe in God.
West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles.
Lean as a spider, he wore a leather cap and puttees the year around, and he was so bowlegged a dog could lope between his knees without touching them.
Like my father, Frank came from Torcella Peligna, a cliff-hugging town in the Abruzzi.
He was that most singular and startling craftsman of the building trade-a left-handed bricklayer.
The latter novella opens with virtuoso description: His name was Frank Gagliano, and he did not believe in God.
West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles.
Lean as a spider, he wore a leather cap and puttees the year around, and he was so bowlegged a dog could lope between his knees without touching them.
Like my father, Frank came from Torcella Peligna, a cliff-hugging town in the Abruzzi.
He was that most singular and startling craftsman of the building trade-a left-handed bricklayer.
The latter novella opens with virtuoso description: His name was Frank Gagliano, and he did not believe in God.
West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles.
Lean as a spider, he wore a leather cap and puttees the year around, and he was so bowlegged a dog could lope between his knees without touching them.
Like my father, Frank came from Torcella Peligna, a cliff-hugging town in the Abruzzi.
He was that most singular and startling craftsman of the building trade-a left-handed bricklayer.
The latter novella opens with virtuoso description: His name was Frank Gagliano, and he did not believe in God.
West of Rome\'s two novellas, My Dog Stupid and The Orgy, fulfill the promise of their rousing titles
