by Marianne Rogoff

After all day and all night of buses, moving walkways, escalators, planes, and trains I woke up alone in a big bed in Arezzo, strange because I was not traveling alone. I unpacked my rain hoodie to stroll the wet grounds of the inn and found my guy already at breakfast, the cook Gabriela predicting bigger storms as dark clouds barreled through a drizzling blue-gray sky. Continue reading “Under the Tuscan Rain” →