“I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. . The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. She felt she must fly before it and could no longer do so. ’ ‘Bravo,’ applauded Lucilla, clapping her hands.
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This video was uploaded to bbdy.space on 29-06-2024 23:03:39
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