I was wooed in Florence in a garden. I was wooed with an abundance of wild spring flowers underfoot, warm sun on my face, a cathedral of cypresses lining the aisle for me to walk on a tender green carpet of grass, a good book and a stone table to read it upon. There was no snake in this garden, only a quick green lizard sunning itself on the tiles. I knew I was being wooed, every moment, and I was a happy bride.
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