That day? Those days so brief, my skin was scented with orchidees. The stones cooked my silver sandals like paninis. Wandering upon ancient stone as my eyes engorged upon pearl bezels with delicate cameos. Borgo di Albizi? Walking, walking in dress after dress. Praying in pink silk. Crying in crimson chiffon. Eating roasted pork and munching on stuffed peppers. I deeply remember my long hair glowing copper with golden and onyx buillion caramels. The narrow streets filled with bouquets of the wedded. The tradition of celebrating at Chiesa di Dante. How, how could I have even planned to land in Florence? It was all so unrehearsed. Ah, but it is only now wine delightful and tragic which was slurped alone. I so loved Chiesa di Dante in the afternoon.
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