Tuesday, September 29, 2009
He swoops down from the rooftop, velvet cape and and quilted wings all aflutter.
Armed with needle and thread he stalks these medieval streets hiding in shadows and behind the menus of boutique restaurants.
He is the hero of the torn-hemmed and the loose-buttoned. He can spot an unraveling thread while sipping an americano and reading the New Yorker.
He is THE STITCHER