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Italy
strolling down the crowded streets
the smooth, worn cobblestone
bending and turning
as if they were blown around by the light breeze
dad and I getting gelato
and eating it in the piazza
under the twinkling starlight
the air thick with the promises of a new tommorow
a soft tarentella dancing around us
the pale, warm sun casting the colors of wine bottles onto the soft glass windows of chocolate shops
dad reprimanding me for eating too many hazelnut candies
and lounging in the fountain's spray
italy
my italy
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