her and her friend walked in front
we lingered behind
long narrow cobble stone streets
the luminous glow from the majestic Duomo
whispers of ancient masters at every turn
“‘where are you staying tonight?”
sly
he knew
I walked a little faster to catch up with her
down another moonlit street
a large wooden door
six flights of stairs
a simply furnished one bedroom flat
pinup on the wall
no tv
soft breeze from an open window
her friend made tea
he was entertaining
vying for her attention
gradually the conversation
shifted away
excluding him and me
he seemed bored and uninterested
her friend turned and spoke to him
I didn’t understand
he mumbled something back
I felt pressured to talk
Italian?
no, from Iraq
where?
Baghdad, like Ali Baba
hmmm, not familiar
slight language barrier
he warmed up
he should visit America
hard to get a visa
wait, what?
you need a visa? all I needed was a passport?
reality check
where you are born makes a difference
Indigo-Daisy 
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