We walked on stones and those ground into sand,
Perfect forms sprung from rock; once unruly, carved by hand.
Past temples, tombs and storerooms, still sturdy,
Pearly colours shone in the sun: mauves and pinks, quite unearthly.
Geneva
Deliciously ice cold tap water, gleaming white supermarkets, perfectly packaged cheeses, watches weighted with glittery bits, and the magnificence of the lake, a glistening great silvery body of sparkles that spreads out within the city: my first fresh breath of Geneva.
Belongings dropped at our rabbit warren style hostel, Iain and I strode out into the city, heading for Lake Geneva. I had never before encountered a lakeside city, and with little expectation, followed the ordinary, linear streets toward the centre. Continue reading Geneva>>
