I think I may be drunk.* In Florence, bitches. (I just wrote "in Florence, itches," which may refer to my very first cold sore** breakout in Rome after 30 years of no cold sores and 6 months of celibacy. Which sucks, let me tell you. I mean, if I get cold sores then I should at least have done something ENJOYABLE to deserve them, right? None of this "I have no idea where they came from" crap. Because I am hideously vain, I retouched EVERY single picture of myself from Rome. Crusty face wounds are not so attractive.)
Otherwise, Florence is great. I've climbed up to the VERY TOP of the Palazzo Vecchio, have rambled around the restricted vaults of the Duomo (in between the ceiling vaults and the timber roof, pictured--it's like a moonscape), trundled up the Leaning Tower of Pisa, gone to Positano on the Amalfi coast, fortuitously run into the Giro d'Italia, and visited Rome for 5 days. Amazing!
*Expansion of comment on Bee-spot.
**Yeah, face herpes.
