Branches of pink almond bent over the golden flowers of mimosa in the carts of the flower-sellers. Cascades of water flowing from the mouth of the lion-shaped fountain seemed to be more silver, while sheets of linen hung (from the apartments) across the narrow streets to dry in the sun. Sitting on the bridge of Cavour, a toothless beggar had forgotten (for a while) his usual lamentations and had actually grinned at passers-by.
A girl selling bunches of sweet scented violets smiled at the people, singing "Primavera! Spring has arrived!"
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Maybe...but Bodie's table manners
leave a little to be desired