I hung my head outside the shutters and the air graced my face with its crisp essence. The sound of a man rehearsing for the upcoming Opera thrust itself over houses, through ally ways and up into my bedroom window. It was something out of a movie, book or dream.
This place was going to kidnap me willingly and cast me into a world of passion, creativity and truth. I foresaw a future of roaming cobbled ally ways, gliding my fingers over rough surfaces that constructed history, standing at snack bars sipping Espresso’s and learning the language from the bow tie wearing Baristas.
The singing stopped, the baritone was replaced by a playful whistling that danced through the air, reminding me of the colourful confetti being strewn around the square in celebration.
The cold finally won and I sunk back into my warm room. I stood facing the closed window breathing easy and calm, pieces of leftover anxiety from a previous world running away from me; finally, I am alive.