San Simone.

Monica knew about the priest and his little secret. How she knew, I would never know. But she knew. She herself had been full of mysteries planted in her from an archaic and somewhat medieval childhood. San Simone where she lived, was medieval in its own particular way. There was never a moment there where you felt apart of this modern world. Even the people living there seemed to trudge through their daily lives with A heavy step, expecting some grand revelation to drop out of their small sky. But no revelation ever arrived, and life continued to move in its slow and labored way, as though time had stopped there for good, or at least for A while. I always returned there, if even for A day or two, just to take in that ancient air, especially when A slighted breeze would press lightly against my face. The good priest was always there to greet me with his curled smile and Monica with her fragrant long curled red hair, would walk with me towards the town center. Our steps were heavy and the closer we got the more heavy the air felt, but somehow we continued on, thinking that there was something there for us to see.