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Home Away From Home: My Little Florence Apartment.

The plaster of the walls was cracked, and the stairs, though cement, felt ancient beneath my boots. I’d managed to find the switch for the stairwell’s light and crept hastily past the door at the bottom, which was now slightly ajar to reveal the nighttime blackness of the building’s crumbling bowels. Had that been open when I left? Read the rest of this gem…

A Lust Letter To Siena.

Carissima Siena,

Should I call you dearest, do you think, when our time together was so tumultuous and brief?

Like a couple of teenagers, we were — you exasperated at my poor skills of communication, and me laughing at your sometimes brazen sense of style. Read the rest of this gem…