outside the roman walls.

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A Bostonian's fourteen year love affair in words and photographs with all things Rome. Memories recounted felt so deeply it's taken years to describe in sketches and notes here now.

December 19, 2011 at 11:15am
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Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you  Angels have no thought of ever returning you Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?  Gloomy Sunday  Gloomiest Sunday, with shadows I spend it all My heart and I have decided to end it all Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are said, I know But let them not weep, let them know that I’m glad to go  Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you  Gloomy Sunday  Dreaming, I was only dreaming I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you My heart is telling you how much I wanted you  Gloomy Sunday.  (Taken with instagram)

Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you Angels have no thought of ever returning you Would they be angry if I thought of joining you? Gloomy Sunday Gloomiest Sunday, with shadows I spend it all My heart and I have decided to end it all Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are said, I know But let them not weep, let them know that I’m glad to go Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you Gloomy Sunday Dreaming, I was only dreaming I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, here Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you My heart is telling you how much I wanted you Gloomy Sunday. (Taken with instagram)