Bismuth
The pale faced five your old boy, balanced precariously on the stone ledge He leaned forward, his head cocked at an awkward angle, eager to catch the nectar spat from the huge, stone, lions mouth. Dark blue rings circled his old soul eyes a stark contrast to his sick, ghostly face. He was extremely thirsty; it was a hot, sultry morning, the sun suspended from a blue cloudless sky, scorched the land. He was overheated and it was summer both of which he was worse for. Bismuth eagerly drank large quantities of the water, He felt better for drinking cold liquids and cold applications for that matter. So engrossed in his cool activity; Bismuth was oblivious to the irate, cursing, man approaching at near jogging speed.
‘BASTA”!!! (stop!) The man screamed as he yanked the young startled boy by the arm, from under the stream of water, which was cascading over his baldhead.
“Get your hands off my son, how dare you call him a bastard.” the adrenaline bombarded, flushed women shouted, knocking the mans hand away from her precious son.
“Signora, por favore, no drink, ...echo Trevi Fountain” the breathless man articulated, hands cupped, head bent, licking as a cat would curtly lick satisfied from its bowl.
Bismuth was shocked and terrified of the gesturing male before him. He clung to his mother, arms wrapped tightly around her pink legs, head molded to her bum. Flushes of heat besieged his head and chest which made him cling even tighter to his mothers sweaty legs.........
Bismuth Materia Medica