When we reached the head of the wide golden staircase set into the hill, and I found balm for my torn feet on a hundred stone steps warmed by the healing sun, I surveyed the perfect little cloister, the tiny chapel, and the cells beyond, and responded to the sacred peace in my own way, “Thank f^ck for that.”
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13 Responses to The Botticelli Secret by Marina Fiorato p 47