"Don Petrosile sighed. Such a woman had never entered his ambit or if she had, he had been asleep, his antennae had not been working, he had not picked up on the flaming desire that Aldo had described.

"In the full moon she is molta scaldata."

"Truly? It affects her like that?"

"Si", said Aldo.

Don Petrosile began now to wonder if this woman was all in the mind of Aldo, a product of his imagination.

Aldo was the spazzino, the street sweeper of Acireale. He swept and he talked; mostly he talked.

"She passes this way each day," continued Aldo. "Around 8.30, she is heading for work, I think," he said, lifting his brush onto his cart.

Tucking this morsel of information into his mindfile, Don Petrosile bid Aldo a "Buon' journata," and went on his way."