I remember it clearly: We had just gotten gelato after dinner. We were walking in Positano, getting ready to head back to the villa. I pushed Margot up a cobbled hill in her stroller. Margot felt impatient and wanted to walk. She jumped out. Amidst the shops and restaurants there was an art gallery. The door was open, so Margot wandered in. And then she studied the art.
1 comment:
Why do I want to giggle?
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