“The last rights were given... all was lost.He'd hoped for a miracle or for the huddled mass to finally awaken from the wicked enchantment.It was not to be.And so it went... fluttering and battered... slipping out through shuttered window crack...Perhaps one day they could finally see. How furious they'd be!He packed up his rage... folded it carefully, and placed it neatly next to his hope...He closed the pack and made his way down the darkened passage singing a lone sad melody.”
"Fado" ~ Coimbra, Portugal © 2010 Skip Hunt
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