Enza Quargnali was a co owner of the La Romita Art School in Terni, Italy.
We will always remember her, a slight thing with intense energy, only the truth passed her lips, incapable of shielding students from the obvious. Her reading glasses hanging from her neck a hidden treasure from Murano are the only evidence of a weary body.
Silent is her voice, English with an Italian accent, bouncing off the ceiling of the cucina warning of an impending storm. She is the gray heavy clouds saturated with moisture which come in thunderous crashes pouring rain down onto the mountains and rolling into the valley with bolts of lightening flickering in the distance.
She is imbedded in the terra cotta walls, the flowering pots gorging flowers cascading into the patio. The chapel walls, now quiet, will echo her presence, a constant reminder of the family who so lovingly poured their creative talents into every brick, every wall, every room beaconing artists to reach their inner soul.
She is the monastery herb garden with scents of rosemary, lavender, sage and lemon. She is the old gnarled olive tree still clinging to the steep hillside giving a bounty of fruit every season.
She is the bleating sheep calling for the flock to gather which will never come.