I am trying to sell an article written about the multitudes of forgotten ruins that are strewn across the Italian countryside. To fuel this goal I went on an expedition into a part of the nearby town of Pescosolido that was destroyed in an earthquake in 1915 and has since been ignored and forgotten. It was epic. The ruined alleys and buildings, doorways and windows, were crumbling skeletons of a narrow neighborhood built onto a vertical cliff. The odd location is the reason for its destruction as the houses had much poorer foundations than those locatated on the top of the hill. The place was totally overgrown by massive ivy vines that wound up the walls in intricate braids, some vines as thick as my arm. There was not a soul there except for one goat, the guardian of the ruins who kept a watchful eye from his station atop one of the cracked walls. Pictures to come.
On another note, some flattering quotes from Benoit about me: "Simon you've taught me two important things: First, to get after it. And second, you are the craziest person I know, but good crazy." ( excerpt from a heart to heart over beer in an empty bar)
"Simon, you look like a sexy dad." So I guess that's who I've become, a crazy, sexy dad that gets after it. Oh well.