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Once on Vis, the island, we are whisked by a local couple – Jélena, a former triathlete with the finely defined musculature of a thoroughbred and a tired smile, and her beau Alf, née Hrvoje, a balding, thin, silent, efficient type who chain-smokes hand-rolleds – along a twisting road to a beach featuring large white pebbles and extra-clear turquoise water.We dive with eyes open, legs flailing, yet at 30 meters from shore we never reach the porous white rock below, though it seems ever within reach.

his films listed in the NOIR section, above, plus One, Two, Three (fantastic, perfectly entertaining, phenomenal dialogue; stars an older James Cagney) Anything with the young Al Pacino, esp.I slowed down and kept going for half a mile, but something made me turn around. Another three miles on this path brings you to a land of dunes – great white dunes set against mountains blue from the angle of the light and a pastel sky burning in the west with the sunset, filtered through laminae of heat and dust and clouds.And the clouds over these dunes of gypsum sands are creatures of pure light, shorn of heft, filled with nothing but air and a sort of purity of existence. These clouds don’t seem at all painted, yet if there could be a picture of heaven, of a clarity and beauty at the level of Revelation, of G-d communicating with the world via light and its cousin, color, it would probably look like this: In no particular order; those in bold MUST BE SEEN IMMEDIATELY: CLASSIC FILM NOIR Double Indemnity (perfect script, genius acting; a film by the great Billy Wilder) The Maltese Falcon Laura Gaslight (with the young Ingrid Bergman) The House on Telegraph Hill The Big Sleep Dead Reckoning Key Largo The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (Barbara Stanwyck, Kirk Douglas) Sunset Boulevard L. Confidential ROMANTIC Casablanca A Love Affair to Remember (Deborah Kerr, Cary Grant) Frankie and Johnny (Michelle Pfeiffer, Al Pacino) Scent of a Woman (the original one – L’Aroma di Donna – with Vittorio Gassman) Roman Holiday Funny Face ITALIAN (a sea of genius, hard to be comprehensive; some favorites:) All by Fellini, De Sica The Bicycle Thief Marriage, Italian-Style Divorce, Italian-Style Amarcord 8.5 All by Lina Wertmüller, esp. Mastroianni) BRITISH (vast selection; these are some off-the-top-of-the-head favorites) Julius Caesar (1954) – the young Marlon Brandon and Deborah Kerr Anything with Alec Guinness, esp.She’s a long-haired brunette with white skin and a girl’s earnest voice, in wide-legged white pants, and she’s got just the tiniest bit of a camel-toe when she hitches them up across the swath of belly towards the tiny black top while blowing, out of breath, up on her bangs because she’s hot, and you can see the opaque front pockets shining through the white linen pants on her hips, and she’s fanning herself with some cheap disposable fan between verses, making smiling flamenco gestures with her hands, and the impromptu-dancing audience is loving the generation-old tunes she and her too-tanned partner with Roman hair and a hoop in the ear are belting through an amateur-sounding audio system, and it’s a real of an atmosphere and everyone is twenty-five years younger and there’s racial and gender and all other kinds of harmony in effect.The women in this city, by the way – the 45-and-over set – are unabashedly, gloriously sexy: bright-eyed, tanned and wide-hipped, impossibly slim-waisted for their or any age, squeeze-breasted, with fine lace bras peeking out of their, say, aquamarine summer dresses that show plenty of leg, the occasional burst of cellulite or varicose vein on the satin skin notwithstanding.

his films listed in the NOIR section, above, plus One, Two, Three (fantastic, perfectly entertaining, phenomenal dialogue; stars an older James Cagney) Anything with the young Al Pacino, esp.

I slowed down and kept going for half a mile, but something made me turn around. Another three miles on this path brings you to a land of dunes – great white dunes set against mountains blue from the angle of the light and a pastel sky burning in the west with the sunset, filtered through laminae of heat and dust and clouds.

And the clouds over these dunes of gypsum sands are creatures of pure light, shorn of heft, filled with nothing but air and a sort of purity of existence. These clouds don’t seem at all painted, yet if there could be a picture of heaven, of a clarity and beauty at the level of Revelation, of G-d communicating with the world via light and its cousin, color, it would probably look like this: In no particular order; those in bold MUST BE SEEN IMMEDIATELY: CLASSIC FILM NOIR Double Indemnity (perfect script, genius acting; a film by the great Billy Wilder) The Maltese Falcon Laura Gaslight (with the young Ingrid Bergman) The House on Telegraph Hill The Big Sleep Dead Reckoning Key Largo The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (Barbara Stanwyck, Kirk Douglas) Sunset Boulevard L. Confidential ROMANTIC Casablanca A Love Affair to Remember (Deborah Kerr, Cary Grant) Frankie and Johnny (Michelle Pfeiffer, Al Pacino) Scent of a Woman (the original one – L’Aroma di Donna – with Vittorio Gassman) Roman Holiday Funny Face ITALIAN (a sea of genius, hard to be comprehensive; some favorites:) All by Fellini, De Sica The Bicycle Thief Marriage, Italian-Style Divorce, Italian-Style Amarcord 8.5 All by Lina Wertmüller, esp. Mastroianni) BRITISH (vast selection; these are some off-the-top-of-the-head favorites) Julius Caesar (1954) – the young Marlon Brandon and Deborah Kerr Anything with Alec Guinness, esp.

She’s a long-haired brunette with white skin and a girl’s earnest voice, in wide-legged white pants, and she’s got just the tiniest bit of a camel-toe when she hitches them up across the swath of belly towards the tiny black top while blowing, out of breath, up on her bangs because she’s hot, and you can see the opaque front pockets shining through the white linen pants on her hips, and she’s fanning herself with some cheap disposable fan between verses, making smiling flamenco gestures with her hands, and the impromptu-dancing audience is loving the generation-old tunes she and her too-tanned partner with Roman hair and a hoop in the ear are belting through an amateur-sounding audio system, and it’s a real of an atmosphere and everyone is twenty-five years younger and there’s racial and gender and all other kinds of harmony in effect.

The women in this city, by the way – the 45-and-over set – are unabashedly, gloriously sexy: bright-eyed, tanned and wide-hipped, impossibly slim-waisted for their or any age, squeeze-breasted, with fine lace bras peeking out of their, say, aquamarine summer dresses that show plenty of leg, the occasional burst of cellulite or varicose vein on the satin skin notwithstanding.

Somewhere in space, among the distant lights, There is a star, whose name I whisper nightly, It’s not on her that I have set my sights, It’s just that other stars don’t shine as brightly.