The other day there was an article in the newspaper
celebrating the rich culture that abounds in India's
domain. Inclusive in the list was one of only two
remiaing original copies of Boccaccio's Decameron.
Apparently, this 650 year old book lies on a shelf in
a museum in India. Preliminary web searching has
left me empty of facts --- but I intend to pursue
this to discover if indeed I may be able to glimpse
the historic manuscript before it decays entirely
to dust.
Speaking of the Plague ...
A friend of mine was walking through the market
looking around and enjoying the day when he accidently
stepped in something soft and squishy. In the instant
before he looked down his mind flicked through all the
possibilities of what he'd see sticking to the bottom
of his sandals; rotten fruit, dog poo, people poo,
blackened mango, a puddle of filth.
No ... it was a rat.
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1 comment:
that is so gross...so why does it make me laugh?
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