Jack and I returned from Rome last night. What to say about ten fabulous days? We ate, we saw, it conquered us. There was no writing, but a lot of sight-seeing (sore feet), a lot of sitting in cafes drinking wine or Italian beer (sore head), and a lot of plane travel (sore butt, plus jet lag). A few pictures, before this blog returns to the business of writing fiction. This is Jack with Erato, muse of literature, in the Vatican Museum. There is a statue of St. Peter in St. Peter's Basilica with a foot that one is supposed to rub for good luck, but for a writer, this is a better choice.
Trevi Fountain. We threw in coins to insure our return to Rome. The fountain gets 3,000 euros tossed in daily.
Centurions riding in a parade to celebrate the founding of Rome 2,785 years ago. A very very long parade -- half of Rome, dressed as soldiers or dancing girls or senators or barbarian hordes, straggled along for hours, periodically breaking character to take pictures of each other on their cell phones.
The Colosseum at night.