Fezzik In Paris

Two Americans, three cats, and too many places named "de Gaulle"

Some three weeks have passed since we returned from our Italian adventure; flying into Venice, we then took a train to Florence, and a subsequent train to Rome.

It was a hell of a trip, and, as usual, I took a probably-ridiculous number of pictures (a thorough purge brought this number to just north of 400). This post does not contain those pictures.

I wrote drafts of three separate posts, one for each location, but I haven’t been able to go back to them, nor have I really had the desire to go through the photos with the intent of selecting and post-processing  those that are “worthy” of this blog. The whole memory seems oddly fragile, and I have been unable to move past the feeling that if I go back through and account for everything we did, the memory will simply recede, like a small village buried by a sandstorm.

When I flipped through the pictures for the third or fourth time this past weekend, I did find myself laughing at the lions. “Another leone” proved to be the motto of the trip, perhaps due to where we were, and perhaps because we “rescued” several more Marcos during our stay in Venice.

It is thus with this admittedly-unsatisfying backstory that I present everything that wound up tagged with the word “lion,” in all its disjointed glory.

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