A Terra

"The owner of the house, an animated man with a thin, neat moustache, had a great love for the ballet. Autographed photos and posters of the famous Italian dancer Carla Fracci in the familiar classical repertoire of poses and gestures adorned the walls. He had a dog called Arco, whose doghouse shared my terrace, though I often found Arco sleeping on the kitchen table one floor below.
In the park across the street, a regular pack of stray dogs hung around, lazing in the shade on the warm asphalt and marbled stone pavement. At night I’d hear them barking as they chased passers by.
Over time, I became familiar with these packs of strays, randagi, that each had their own territory in the old parts of town. They roamed around the harbour at the cruise ship terminal and in the street markets, circling the butcher stands that sold offal and pane con milza. At night I’d find them sleeping curled up in cardboard boxes that were left for them. They were part of the intricate fabric of the city.
At the time, wandering the city, I felt drawn to individual characters. Some of them had names, although nobody knew how they got them. Like the black-and-white TomTom, whose white fur was so saturated with dirt it had turned grey, and Barone, a gentle giant of a dog and a fixture of the Ballaró.
Looking at them now, I’m aware of a repertoire of poses and gestures. In each other’s company, they perform a canine dance of themes and variations, radiating the comradery between them that I experienced being around them."
Part of the text in the book by Charlotte Dumas.