A colorful canvas, a palette with earthy tones. Sienna, ochre and terracotta; venetian blinds in different shades of green, peeling walls, rust and stone. This is Verona, a city with patina, with an old flavor. Even the Adige River is dyed with pebbles and clay.

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It’s warm and bustling, it smells like risotto, Amarone and pecorino.
Romantic and tragic for its Romeo and Juliet, its Arena amphitheater evokes epic literature. Superb and solid, it dresses you in its sword and shield as soon as you sit down.

Eternal as the stones that make it up, I was seduced by its Ponte di Castelvecchio, the old one with its reddish battlements; the stories recorder on its walls and others are in closed inside them. Its Ponte Pietra, and its Duomo dulling in its elevation, whose lighthouse illuminates the city. The Piazza delle Erbe -which has beautiful even in its name-, a place full of history and life, which you have to keep in your mind.

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I liked your legends, much more those hanging of possible whale bones than those touching bronze breasts, looking for eternal love. I left without touching them and I arrived there without a partner, but even though I’m left with no one to love me, it’s enough for me to have fallen in love with you. So I assure you I will return.

You taste like pen and verse,
you dress me in silk,
you nourish me with velvet.

With a long braid you draw my back
and, in a glass of wine, you bring me desire.
With my eyes on your beauty,
between your stones,
Im trapped.


2 respuestas a “Verona


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