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Manong Boie's Advice to Young People

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Stephen King says Stephenie Meyer Sucks

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  This is not a blog post. It’s a love story. It was late afternoon when we stepped outside of Pisa Centrale, the clacking of my son’s stroller on the cobblestone streets echoing down the lane. We just came from Florence for the day, we had no luggage, and we also had no taxi to take back to our hotel. It had been a long day. We must have walked a dozen miles in the last 7 hours exploring every Florentine nook and cranny we happened to come by. I was at the end of my short string, and my husband was at the end of his long one. Our toddler was quiet in his stroller, obviously just as exhausted as his parents even if he hadn’t left his stroller for more than 10 minutes each time. One wrong move, we would’ve exploded. While waiting for the taxi in silence, I had been staring at a building unseeingly for the last 5 minutes. Then I realized, the light looked yellow. The sun streaming through the sides, and indeed, showering us with its rays was actually golden. That jolted me to the present
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