To Sylvia, for the Breeze and the Wildfire (an extract)

Nine years old and tuned into the sounds of Italia, in the place where Victoriana encompassed a later time. They were all there, the man the woman the girl the boy, and why yes, of course, the razor belt. At times I saw a holy angel in private frustration vowing to leave it all behind, but love was the dam.. It was modern then, it was new, one of the visitors vibrated to the sounds of the sea and one of the visitors guests was none other than Narcissus himself. There was scary laughter concerning me and the Italian prince but I was too young to care, I just flipped the Lira over until the sad news came 'September sees a prince change his tune' I wasn't so much hurt but concerned, I believed now in sharing someone elses wife, I wasn't so innocent after all and I knew it.