I'm sitting at Bar Duelle now. There's a group of thin, German hikers to my left. I think they're talking about Monteluco and that just makes my sore hamstrings sing. To my right is an older Italian couple drinking proseco and I contemplate stealing their glass and drinking it in front of them, victoriously.
I am also listening to The Who's _Tommy_.
Earlier, I looked up and saw a wedding party walking through the crosswalk. They were in their full regalia and three of the bridesmaids were trying to keep the white dress' train from touching the street.
I was listening to the song "Cousin Kevin," which is the most inappropriate song for a wedding by The Who, other than the ones about masturbation or the ones filled with Pete Townsend's bad sex jokes (I love it when you say my name/ especially when you say yes-clearly a great poet).
The drivers honked the horns and the party waved back as they walked down the path towards Arte Lingua.
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