I thought life in the South was slow, Italy, you win. In life patience is a virtue, here in Firenze’ its mandatory. My apartment has 20 foot ceilings and windows that are taller than basketball hoops. Our instructor said that some people feel like kids in a candy store; I feel like a kid with hay fever in a antique crystal museum. I’m a little fearful to do”anything”.
Let me qualify this, I don’t think I’m hesitant persay, just not as wreckless as usual, which is a good thing. I’m a guest - and I am here at their discretion not mine. I’m told this is a unique “American” point of view, but I think its how our generation works. At least I hope that’s the case.
I’m going to Chianti this weekend and hopefully Venice next weekend for a modern art festival. Good things abound - pictures and stories to come.
When I was flying over the French Alps a song my cousin recorded came on iTunes. It’s a song by Robbie Seay “New Day” and it truly is. It was sort of an overwhelming moment, as I thought of all my family growing up (I was the oldest of 9 cousins that all lived in the same town) and living great and productive lives (two of which graduated on Sunday with my brother finishing this Fall and me finishing school [READ: Finally] in August) that life is moving on - but that’s not a bad thing.
The song basically said, it may not be the prettiest thing that you’ve ever seen (which we all can relate to) but its a new day - and that’s what counts.
I feel like I’m great at surviving life, but awful at thriving at it. I’m ready for the latter.
