The image that keeps recurring for me is a loaf of Italian bread from the Salumeria on Grand & Mott Streets.
The loaf is partially gone, and it sits on a cutting board, white side down, with a knife, some cheese, and maybe a sausage along side.
Next to the loaf is a bottle of red wine and some glasses.
Around the table, we are discussing something, passionately.
Vittorio, sitting, one leg over another, cigarette in hand, shaping the conversation.