Have you ever had a travel experience so significant that it left an indelible scar upon your life for over a decade? My first visit to Oradour-sur-Glane did just that.
What was left of the Berlin Wall wasn’t much to see.
It was a sultry Saturday afternoon on January 11, 1845, when a little boy of eight or nine and his elder sister went to play at the Yarra Falls.
He had been in the room for no more than a moment, yet his expression was already contorted by a perpetual grimace.
eyes Petrarch-weak from battle, what were you to do when you saw him shining?