But, you see, I’m smirched. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. “Now you look happy. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. ‘And nnever would you have f-found it.
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