Words for Wednesday ~ January 21

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
    When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
    Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.

This month the words are again supplied byWiseWebWoman and can be found at River's blog.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.

 It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.

So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

We were given these words:
Absolution
Auschwitz
Love
Resistance
Without
     and/or:
Dancing
Dreams
Ears
Eyes
Talking

Still too grown-uppish for Unicorn Farm, but some of them might do for the mystery of the Lorenzoes? This took me a while to write, it's a bit incoherent, but it is what it is, and not much of the Lorenzoes in it either, sorry.

Next morning Susan awoke early. She tiptoed to the bathroom and looked at her backpack. It was a total loss, green in blobs and patches, grimy and the fabric had cracked and curled here and there. But the items inside mostly had survived. Only the edges of her diary and sketchbook had a greenish tinge to the edges, but it was OK, a memory of the crazy day at the library.
After having a quick wash and braiding her hair, Susan sat down at the window sill trying to draw the view and describe the day yesterday. All those Lorenzos. and all those mad people.

Some time later Knud also stirred, he waddled to the bathroom, patting Susan's head in passing, which she loved, and returned shortly afterwards, fit for a new day.

"You do need a new backpack, don't you?" he asked warmly.
"I sure do," Susan agreed, "that one os not good for anything any more. I think I'll just put my stuff in that tote bag from the hotel and ..."
"And then we'll have to find you a new backpack." Knud interrupted. "Florence is famous for its leaterworking, we should be able to find a new one for you!"
"Oh fabulous, I imagind having to carry this tote bag all through Europe."
"Won't do," Knud said, Let's get going."
They walked along. When they reached the church of Santa Croce a big poster caught their attention.
"Get your absolution here!" it said, then in smaller letters: "On August 2nd we celebrate the Porziuncula indulgence. Be prepared!"
"I like that!" Knud said.
"So do I," Susan said. "But I forgot that Santa Croce is a Franciscan church. It's so very overwhelming, not like the other Franciscan churches, we've seen."
"Too right," Knd agreed, "but it still is a Franciscan church. And I think we should grasp the opportunity, August 2nd is in three days."
"I'd love to," Susan said, and it seems that resistance is futile," she said looking at the next banner featuring - of course - Lorenzo dei Medici summoning them to the occasion as well. "What's his connection here?" Susan asked in a surprised tone, I thought all them Medicis were buried in San Lorenzo."
"They are," Knud replied. "As to why Lorenzo is portrayed, not a clue. His grandfather, Cosimo did commission lots of wok on this church. I do not remember Lorenzo doing anything, but he might be chosen for the looks."
"He might at that," Susan admitted, "But oh, look: Scuola di Cuoio, they must do leatherworking."
They sure did, but the prices were enough to let Susan and Knud leave the shop without doing more than looking and touching. Even the sight of some items with the Medici arms did not tempt them.
"So much money for a backpack!" Susan said in a shocked voice when thy were far enough away from the establishment, "and you even had to order one for delivery within four months. Let's find somewhere a bit more humble. They were also not that great. I'd like something a bit more more practical, spacious and homely," she added.

They had a cappuccino in a street not far away, but down some streets, and obviously in a place not frequented by tourists. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams, and the paint flaked in the corners, but the coffee was excellent. They walked onwards, always choosing the humbler looking of the streets, away from the tourist traps. In the end they found a street of leather shops, not fancy ones, with handwritten signs only in Italian, and with prices more within their range.
"Now, this is where ordinary people buy their stuff, I dare bet," Knud said. Susan just nodded, she had seen something.
"That bag," Susan said with her nose very close to a shop window, "it looks maybe a bit old and faded from the sunlight, but I think it might be the backpack of my dreams. Roomy, lots of pockets, nothing fancy-pants about it, but good workmanship, as far as I can see al least."
Knud looked at it, and the owner of the shop arrived. After some back and forth, where both of them hat to prick up their ears to follow the Florentine shop owner, Susan asked if she could touch the bag. "Go on," the man said, "try it on even. It is good quality," the man said, having understood that they were foreigners, he now spoke in short sentences. Susan smiled and examined the backpack with eyes and fingers, she like everything. Many small rooms and pockets, not taking away from the inner bag, but attached to it on the outside, sturdy broad straps, a broad lid, closing securely and looking like it could keep out the rain. And to finish it all off a fleur de lys imprinted, to remind her of its origin. She tried it on, and it fit her long body as if it was made for her.
"Aï," the shop owner said, "you're a tall one. None of the locals could use it. Special price for you," he continued, and mentioned a really fair price. "I'll use it here and now, please" Susan answered, when asked if she wanted it wrapped. He gave Susan a small tin of something: "Leather treatment," he said. It needs some after its long stay in my window. Susan thanked him, and added. "Will do, this evening" She proceeded to transfer her stuff into it, while Knud paid and added an extra banknote, saying: "This is for talking to us as if we were human beings, and not idiotic tourists." The shop owner gave him a huge smile and hugged and kissed them both for good measure, and then they walked away smiling.