BLURB to face with the three inch bullet proof glass, each visitor must slide their photo ID to the correction officer (CO) on the other side and explain their reason for coming. For a frequent visitor like Wynn, most COs behind the glass recognize her as a Fresh Start teacher and will usually ruffle through the folder of papers to find her clearance form which, on more than one occasion, will be mysteriously missing. BLURB

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Atop a flat plain nestled deep in the rolling hills near this old Roman town, pigs are going wild. It is feeding time. Boars and sows of all colors, shapes and sizes scramble from their wallows, knock into fences and collide into a tangle of loin, belly and butt in the middle of the farm yard.

As the priest sets the bread of the Eucharist on Carlos Mascio’s outstretched tongue, the sound of contemporary jazz blares from outside into the ancient walls of the San Francesco Church. It is Friday night and the daily Mass is far from the minds of most of the residents of Urbino.

“Children think that when you take milk of the cow, it is cold, not hot, because they always take cold milk from the fridge,” says Monserrat Podgornik, the mother of the family. She believes children should understand that when a calf drinks milk, “it has to be hot in the natural way like your mama, no?”

An elderly yet energetic woman backs through the curtain of wooden beads separating Machelleria Ubaldi, a butcher shop, from the sunny afternoon bustle of Via Rafaello near the center of town, still immersed in a loud and lively conversation with someone outside.