THE LETTER “M”
Mortadella and Swiss cheese sandwiches distinguisehd that memorable summer of 1989 from all others. It was a time of manic dashes through the market, maneuvering around the maelstrom of fashionable Florentines and their mopeds, in a daily attempt to make it to lessons on time. In our classroom we maddeningly munched on all that our magnanimous teachers imparted. We whet our cerebral appetite within the myriad museums visited and on the magnificent historical marvels therein. Impossible to minimize our elation as we mingled with other students from all over. Letters sent home magnified the extent of our mutation, for we marched to a new drummer that summer while fighting with mosquitos, melting in the Mediterranean heat and making happy memories. We learned to meditate and muse over complex ideas. Never before had we been so motivated to expand our minds and merge with others. No more mental manacles for us! Nothing could mitigate the pain of leaving that magical location. A pact was made to return one day.
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