Two weeks to the day since I’ve been back from Italia. Two weeks since I’ve had awe-inspiring Italian foods and deserts. Sitting here, by the beach shore, I’m trying to remember what real mozzarella tastes like, or what air with no humidity feels like. I suppose you could say I’ve been going through a kind-of depression—more like withdrawal; from culture, from soul, and from such vivid landscapes and history. But here I am, in the sunshine state, sitting on a crab grass lawn in turquoise chairs, attempting to understand what I loved about Florida to begin with, rather than everything I’ve lately been loathing.