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You're wandering down a crooked alleyway in Florence and notice a door <div class="ajar">ajar</div>
A group of women are clustered in the entranceway. //A thousand women's eyes riveted to the unrealisable//. Do you [[join them in the doorway]] or [[keep walking]] down the alley?You join the women and look further into the room.
You see that an old woman is hunched over a washstand in the corner, tauro cards spread about in front of her. She shuffles the deck, //her wrists flicked flickeringly.// You make eye contact and she beckons to you. You push your way through the crowd and [[approach her]].//"Come to me there is something I have got to tell you and I can’t tell,"// she whispers. "Let me show you."
She draws three cards and places them in front of you. Do you choose the [[first]], [[second]], or [[third]]?
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//Muddled among the aniline brightness of the Tauro cards
The wheels with wings
The rows on rows of goblets
Passionate magenta blossoms//
[[Flip a card|start]]
<img src= https://usercontent1.hubstatic.com/7724206.jpg align="left" />//"Impassioned,"// the woman smiles, winking. "You know what you want, don't you?" You blush. //"You are going to make a journey at evening about love,"// she promises.
Do you [[keep listening]] or [[turn away|went home]] from the woman?<img src= https://www.trustedtarot.com/img/cards/queen-of-wands.png align="right" />//"Doubly impassioned."// The woman smirks. "Lucky in love, my dear." You fake a smile and look down.
"Wait!" she yelps. "It is not *you* who are impassioned, but rather *he*. //He will make a journey at evening and really lady I should say it will not be long before you see him."//
Maybe it's time you [[went home]]. But would Stephen notice if you [[stayed here]]?<img src= https://teachmetarot.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/5cu.jpg align="left" />//"Sad."// The word hangs in the air. "You've lost someone, haven't you, dear?" The woman is nosy, you think.
[[Look closer]] at the card the woman has flipped.//"The nude woman stands for the world."//
You wait for the woman to continue but she doesn't. //"This is just an inconducive bedroom,"// you mutter to no one in particular.
"Don't be fooled by him, dear," the woman warns. //"'With respect' means that some man has well, you know, intentions little honorable."//
You don't need a psychic to tell you that men have dishonorable intentions. You're done listening to the woman. You [[leave the room]].//"Here you are covered in tears for a deception,"// she explains. //"At the door of your house there is a letter about an affair?"// she asks. She's right. //"Are you looking for a little love-tale that never came true?"//
You don't feel the need to answer this. You head to the [[door of the house]].
"Wait!" the woman yell. "Will you [[come back|stayed here]]?"You turn from the woman and make your way out of the cramped room. It feels like the entire neighborhood is watching you. //Those eyes of Petronilla, Lucia, Letizia, Felicita, Filomena, Amalia, Orsola, Geltrude, Caterina, Delfina, Zita Bibiana, Tarsilla, and Eufemia, all staring.// Let them stare.
You begin the ascent back to your studio. You feel like writing tonight.
This journey has ended. Would you like to [[start again|start]]?The woman's eyes are //intrepid with phantom secrets// and she looks at you with the //woman-smile of your mother.// At least she'll make a good character in one of your poems, you think. You haven't felt like painting lately and have been surprised by how much you've been enjoying writing.
//Allow us to rely on our instincts,// you think to yourself and turn towards the door. You're in the mood to write.
This journey has ended. Would you like to [[start again|start]]?You push pash the women in the doorway back into the alley. You need a coffee and some company, so you start [[walking towards|the cafe]] Paszkowski's, your favorite cafe. There's nothing you love more than walking around Florence. Before, when you and Stephen first moved to the city, you lived far away, on top of a hill. Now you're right in the heart of it all. You've heard people describe Florence as //a woman with flowers in her hair,// but to you it's a //city with stones on the streets.//
You're in the mood for a coffee and //the smell of small cooking from luckier houses// reminds you that you haven't eaten for hours. You [[walk toward]] Paszkowski's, your favorite cafe. You step into the alley. The sun has set while you were inside. //The moon is cold// and the //lights of the Arno// illuminate the alleyway. Everything seems so much clearer now. You start walking home.
This journey has ended. Would you like to [[start again|start]]?To the left you see a boy pulling door bells. He turns to you as you walk past. "Mama?" he asks, tears in his eyes and //sensitive down among his freckles.
"I cannot be your mother,"// you explain. //"There are already so many ignorances I am not guilty of."// You turn to leave, but think of your two children, far away at the seaside. Are you a terrible mother? You turn back to the boy, he is //perfect in pink-&-whiteness, in blue-eyedness, in yellow-silk-curledness.// You take his hand and scan the cobblestone street for his mother. On the left you see //threewomen,// all wearing similar dresses, standing and talking and, on the right, an open doorway. Do you approach [[the women]] or [[enter the doorway?]]
The //threewomen// don't hear you approach, they're deep in conversation. You clear your throat and one turns around. //"Hail to you, bad little boy!"// she yells, grabbing the child's hand. One of her companions smiles knowingly. //"Delightfully male, already gallant,"// she scolds gently. The third woman does not speak.
Your work here is done and you realize you've lost your appetite. Paszkowski's will have to wait for another day. You turn and head back to your studio; your //pair of feet smack the flag-stones.//
This journey has ended. Would you like to [[start again|start]]?As soon as you step into the apartment, a voice calls from the other room and the boy runs toward it. He is home.
You turn and look out the doorway and realize you're being watched. //Clacking of all the green shutters from which bits of bodies variously leaning mingle eyes with the commotion.// You've never been comfortable being in the spotlight.
It's time to get out of here. Do you continue heading towards [[the cafe]] or head [[back home|leave the room]]?Paszkowski's is bustling when you get there. You see many familiar faces as you make your way to the counter. Coffee in hand, you weave through tables to where your friend, Mabel, is sitting in the back. You can't wait to tell her about the poetry you've been working on.
This journey has ended. Would you like to [[start again|start]]?