Florence in the Rain
Worn, wet stones on which Michelangelo once walked Are now our dance floor.
Worn, wet stones on which Michelangelo once walked Are now our dance floor.
“You will find the instructions enclosed. Now go, dear child, and may your endeavors be blessed. Your deeds are gaining his attention, and in you he has found…
The battered old car sweeps up to the door and an old man, presumably the owner of the property, emerges and pulls an overcoat from the back. He nods at me…
The woman is head and shoulders shorter than me, her long black hair lit up by the headlights as she steps out of the car. I can’t make out her expression but…
Onward and onward his wayward legs carried him, undoubtedly scared out of their mind by the fairly hefty guards who seemed to be following him. The man in the…
“Come on! I’m not actually that drunk!” The decrepit specimen of a noble flew over the curb of the street as the bouncers to disreputable tavern threw him as…