The language of love is dancing in my mind, so much so that I’m awake at 4am (Florentine time) while my body demands, “No, damn it, it is only 10pm. What are you doing trying to sleep!?”
As the pale-white aurora of clouds sweeping across the spiderweb of stars tries to convince me to sleep, I can but only feel tiny in this massive world of things I don’t know... of things I’ve yet to experience.
Two days under these skies of discovery and history. Ti amo Firenze. There are little old women with push carts and tanned skin, whose hardened Italian faces stare me down, then up, then down again, perhaps to say, “Yes I know you are an outsider, but I like your dress.”
