Today, with Katie as our guide, we toured the streets of
Florence. She had a map. A book, and a
list of sculptures she want to see. Before we got started, I wanted to find
some postcards to show where we had been.
Katie left me at the souvenir kiosk while she wondered off to look at a
church. I had picked up a couple of
postcards then decided to get them later so I put them back in their appropriate
slots and stepped away from the kiosk.
As I stepped away, a loud whistle began blowing in my ear. I thought for a moment that the policeman didn’t
see me put the postcards back and thought I was stealing them. For a brief moment, my life in an Italian
prison flashed before my eyes. As I
turned around, the policeman, continuing to blow his whistle in my face
motioned for me to step aside which, I promptly did, wandering if I should put
my hands in the air. I was thinking to myself that they should be out chasing pickpockets
instead harassing me for something I didn’t even do. Right about then, I then
looked over my shoulder to see another police officer moving a large crowd of people out of the way so an ambulance could go by. I guess they just
felt I required special attention.
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