The city of poets, flowers, and wine. Prohibition and vines destroyed. The city of poets and flowers. Revolution and poets left. The city of flowers. And the gardens are quite nice.
The roots of one particular popular peppery and berry-ish wine first grew from a Shiraz grape seed in this namesake city. The markets are filled with smiles and dried fruit, traders trading for a thousand years.
My favorite professor at Columbia was born in this city. He is a poet. We set up a special trade on the benches of college walk, our own garden in the city of concrete and steel. In exchange for paintings I received books of art: classic and modern, gold and dust. My favorite market.
