To fly with angels

Inhale.

Breathe in with me the scents and sounds

of the beauty that is Italy.

The narrow cobbled streets,

the alleyways

with the pungent smells of lemons

and cloves.

Listen with me to where the sounds of Italian summers past

linger like waiting ghosts.

The sounds of this place,

like old Italian love songs of long ago.

Here, the smells and the sounds

became a kaleidoscope flickering in my heart,

one small heart beating along with a million others,

under the deepening sky.

The stars saw it all.

They see,

and remember.

(Italy has  quite stolen my heart away.
I took over 900 shots on our trip,
these are a few of my favourites.
And dears, how have you all been?)