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Arriving returned to Venice, I went back to the hotel and may have stayed some number of days-longer. Maybe some sentimental walks around Venice, now a-newly experienced vagabond, deranged, dragging a broken-psyche along the narrow street-walled passage-ways, next to the canals, utterly alone and shattered. The guy I had left my scooter with berated me for not-driving it fast enough. He had driven it very-fast, seventy and eighty kilometers an-hour, to blow it out - he said. Better for the engine - "you-drive faster". Sorry-buddy, but I don't feel-safe.
I had an accident on a main and crowded thoroughfare, with-a-view that may have been on a wide and high bridge; just outside Venice, as picturesque as a Constable-painting. Bumped the rear of a car in front of me - stopped-short. No damage to my scooter - so what could there-have-been to his Fiat. But the driver-had a car-full of family-women, and so he-had to-make a federal-case out of-it, in the manner they were said to be prone - Italian-excitability. A lot of indignantcy, huff and puff, angry demeanor, shouting, gestured arm-waves, the nerve of me to hit-him - all-a big-show for the woman folk. Somehow it was the tradition like opera. If only he had sung to me. If only we had the voice or wrist-watch amplitudal karaoke machines. He made-me give him my name and insurance company. And I thought the nerve of him. He may have hailed a cop on a motorcycle with white-helmet. Besides the show, would-suppose he planned to get-paid as well. He belonged to the union.
I went straight-south through Bologna to Florence where I stayed some number of days. I met a woman from Chicago. She was tall, shoulder length auburn hair, good figure and she liked the statue of David by Michelangelo and we gazed upon the statuesque together.
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