My father is a fan of an Italian-dubbed, German soap opera called Tempesta D’Amore, saga television at its very best. Set in a five-star hotel with characters who cheat, lie, and connive like cousins at a Trump family-reunion picnic, it would occasionally pull me into the vortex of daytime viewing, spending the entire episode trying to figure out the Byzantine plotlines of complicated relationships.
“I don’t get who these people are.”
“They brother and sister-in-law,” my father would explain, “but his wife, her sister, was die. Now she’s love him and she’s pretends she sick so he’s no leave.”
“But why is she ‘remembering blood’? I don’t get what they’re arguing about.”
“They was kill and bury somesbody together.”
“I can’t believe you called this a ‘family’ show.”
In the end, Continue Reading →