I walk every day until my legs are tired. The streets are paved with uneven cobblestones and the landscape is covered in stairs and steep hills leading to castles and cathedrals. I feel healthy and vibrant and happily ignore the discomfort in my feet.
The women here are so small they almost disappear into the stucco walls and pub-lined streets. None of their thighs touch as they walk in a hopelessly short miniskirts or perch themselves in a sheer dresses on a seat in the metro or stand in leggings or skinny jeans in the tram.
They are such tiny pictures of perfection.
It's possible; I know it.
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