Italy: Part Three Point Five

Donned my new polka-dot suit. AM ferry to village four. Onion foccasia. Bisque saw the boat from afar, said, "We will be on the top level." As in, "We will fight anyone to the death if they try to take the unadulterated sunshine and ship breeze from us."

At Monterossa we had panna cotta cones and shuffled to the beach. We set a fifteen minute timer for Bisque's lily white skin, but he still came out pink.

The ocean was very cold. We waffled about how far we'd wade in, but finally I dunked  and never looked back. Every time I've gone to the ocean I waffle and then dunk and never regret it.

"My brain's a raisin," my lobster guy said re: the tired conversations we were having. Sunsleepy. We had dinner at the same little place. A cheese plate and followed it with real ciocollatta and cream. I ate a dang biscotti, which I had been clamoring about since arriving in Venice.