The problem was that I had not bought the tickets in English, so the tour guide had no opportunity to realise that she had a family of English speakers on the tour.
A separation resolved in absentia. There are no lines on the face of time.
The sound of joy and laughter fluttered up from the square below; it was utterly infectious.
The more I travel, the more I realise that there is no such thing as pristine or perfect. Everything is dirty, decaying and rotten.