Throughout all seasons, we journey through the streets, archaeological discoveries in every step we take. Perugia, our love, where we buried bits of our youth and where our eyes and lenses conquered all.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
When the rain is over...
...the Torre degli Sciri, with all its 46 metres, and eight hundred years, seems to be crying, all the water flowing freely down its stone cheeks.
What's left? These tear marks, black with time. Tissues, anyone?
At least he has the moon to console him, - or is she just another tear from heaven...? Dried by the sun.
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