Character in a setting:

Layla walked along the Canal Grande, past the Santa Lucia train station, toward the Jewish quarter. She hated the smell of this side of the city. Murky water smelled of rot and the wooden balconies sagged with age. The calle, or narrow streets, were dark and lined with run-down houses. The other side of the canal was a constant intersection of paths past tightly packed houses perched on the water that lapped at the doors during high tide. Brightly lit shops lined the way to the gold-domed Cathedral of San Marco occasionally opening into wide plazas before narrowing into another calle barely wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. Gossiping, laughing people crossed the Bridge of Sighs just in sight of the lagoon.

Layla looked at her feet on the cobblestone. She hated being made to hide and thought her mother had been unwise to come here. Had she stayed at home they would all be together. It was impossible to penetrate the dingy neighbourhood. All the inhabitants stayed locked up in their houses, opening their doors for no one. No one could be trusted. Layla twisted thin brown hair in a knot out of frustration. She was neither hot nor very cold, but she could not stand anything touching her right now. Anything but her mother’s voice was a distraction. How either of them had made it this far still had not registered with Layla. How they would get home, Layla had not yet contemplated. First, she needed to find her mother and see if she even wanted to come back to Jack, Lillian and Layla after their village had burned.

I have been struggling with the blog. I really need to spend some time organizing my submissions. I have planned to take the time to look over the writing of others but tend to get wrapped up in my writing and time flies. Some discipline and reflection would do me good.