his
versions, his fictionPietro
Meneghellihis
versions, his fiction
Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing a tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath:
The Spouter-Inn
Sorry. This site is under reconstruction.
We apologize for the inconvenience! You may find the "Spouter Inn" in Italian at the site http:/web.tiscalinet.it/canvas/
We wish you a cool navigation!
