Entry tags:
xii. written
[ Lucrezia writes in curled letters, more like pictures than text, a little poetry or is it a riddle? ]
πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα χρύσω χρυσοτέρα
[ Meanwhile she is at the laundry room, seated on the floor with her light green gown spread about her. She has both hands on one machine, watching the colors spin through the glass with amazement on her face. Yellows, blues, greens and purples! ]
[ trans.; than the lyre, far sweeter in tone than gold, more golden. ]
πόλυ πάκτιδος ἀδυμελεστέρα χρύσω χρυσοτέρα
[ Meanwhile she is at the laundry room, seated on the floor with her light green gown spread about her. She has both hands on one machine, watching the colors spin through the glass with amazement on her face. Yellows, blues, greens and purples! ]
[ trans.; than the lyre, far sweeter in tone than gold, more golden. ]

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We come in peace!
[... because she'll totally get an alien joke, Steph.]
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Not quite.
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[She did, really! Just messing around.]
You're not talking crap about people, are you?
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You suspect such things about me.
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So! What is this?
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What's the answer?
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A song?
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I am sure Sappho thought of someone when she wrote it, or something.
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Not all. Cesare reads me the more difficult ones.
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Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
Stephanie
Lucrezia
ezio's shoulder is pretty awesome
i will make the same typo forever
i dig it
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SHE'D WRITE IT IN ENGLISH IF IT WERE ABOUT YOU
AS WE KNOW]