Fiesole, Fiesole, Fiesole. For as long as I live, the word will be an incantation, pulling me from whatever muck I have found myself in, kissing me with sun and hill and grass, with the memory of wine and figs, …
Month: May 2014
Venice
My time trapped inside a crowded and wet Salzburg hostel had taken its toll, and, for the first time since leaving home, I was spine-quiveringly ill. Which was perfect timing, really, given that my next destination was one of the …