Some of us are captivated by old-world beauty. Perhaps it's the facades of Italian 19th-century buildings which still shine with gold, peach, lemon, orange, melon pink and earthy reds. Or the prominent town cathedral that sits on a lofty pinnacle overlooking the ethereal Mediterranean. Or the ancient Roman/Greco footpaths that lead up to the mountains which tower over the village with an ever-constant blanket of thick clouds. My heart isn't swayed by the riches of Monaco or the crowds of Nice. It stays with Menton, where the artist in me revived again.
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