Summer’s pomp is fading. July turns to August, and the sun-washed has become the sun-burnt. But the thrill of another month of summer is too much, and on we go with our odd and exciting lives.
Our nights have been filled with beautiful films from the Silent Era, which began where it should always begin – in the dancing dark orbs of Valentino’s eyes. The Sheik’s expressions are filled with romance and mayhem, and the film itself leaves you enthralled, hushed, mesmerized.
I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t read another biography because of this. But I am. And I do. And who was once Rudolph Valentino is now Rodolfo Guglielmi, the man beneath the burnoose. And what a wonderful fellow he was. Decidedly imperfect, but all the more interesting.
Mr. C found a very rare and wonderful vintage postcard for me. It shows our Rodolfo, from Son of the Sheik, standing majestic beside W. K. Kellogg’s Arabian, Jadaan. And this is how we go, opening presents on Christmas day – boxes within boxes, discovering ancient treasures. Always more, always deeper and more wonderful than what shines on the surface.
Dark Lover, The Life and Death of Rudolph Valentino, Emily W. Leider
‘Till next time.