After a long flight via Singapore and Paris, I arrived in Florence this morning and was greeted at the airport by a close friend. As we sat chatting over coffee in the familiar surrounds of the Pertola Airport, my fatigue dissipated and I felt still and present. I was able to breathe again.
On the motor ride to my apartment in San Marco, we drove through familar streets and places etched in memories from the past: Baccio di Montelupo; Stazione Leopold; and Lungarno with Ponte Vecchio in the distance. As the crisp morning air gently carassed my face and ruffled the folds of my winter shawl, I breathed in the scent of Spring and smiled. I smiled because even if I have changed, Florence was still here exactly as I remembered it. Happiness beyond measure.
The apartment in San Marco has not changed either. It remains full of warmth, light and the energy of young women. My house mates are two female students from France; Marie and Giovanna. Before I retired to bed to sleep we had lunch together; pasta, insalata, Parmaggino e Proscuito di Parma.
I have just awoken after sleeping all afternoon. A deep robust sleep. Apparently I have slept through the sound of my housemates trying to wake me, the phone ringing, and possibly even the sound of the doorbell (a Courier from the airport tried to deliver my misdirected luggage from Paris).
Without my belongings there is little I can do apart from rest and settle in and I think that for the next few days, that is how things are mean't to be.
As for now I will finish the cup of tea I've been sipping as I've been writing, have a shower and curl up in bed with a book before the sounds of Florence lull me to sleep again.
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