Figlia d' 'a Tempesta
Weekends attracted heavy crowds, and today was no exception. After changing, feeding, and dressing Luciana, the mother-daughter duo headed for the stall-lined streets.
Perched at a covered kiosk selling blankets, Cora rubbed the patterned fabric between her fingers in slow, decisive rolls. She was trying to determine whether or not they were hand stitched or produced by a machine. Despite her upbringing as a noblewoman in patriarchal society, she found needlework tedious and easily forgot her childhood lessons in embroidery and weaving.
Plainclothes wouldn’t give her away as such. Here, she was simply a woman with a baby strapped to her chest.
Said baby, from the comfort of her sling, gurgled and cooed as she watched the crowds mill about. Luciana had little interest in fabrics and stitching and yarn - instead, she was enraptured simply by looking at the rich colors and interesting shapes as they passed by.