I was driving through downtown last night and I realized that I missed your narrow streets and crowded buildings. Maneuvering around taxis and pedestrians isn’t the same here as weaving in and out of your narrow cobbled streets trying to navigate bicycles, tourists, and buses.
It was just too easy. It was 130 in the morning and it was dead. Rainy. And cold. And while using an umbrella yesterday reminded me of you, it just wasn’t the same. I missed the constant breaths that escape from your buildings and roads.
I miss your façades that whisper stories of renaissance scandals and late night rendezvous. I miss your dim lights that cast shadows of mystery. I miss your people who’s eyes twinkle of adventure. I miss your trains that hum lullabies.
I miss the routine. I miss being jostled by passengers on buses, bartering vendors for the best produce, and just drinking an espresso and people watching.
You are a city that breathes, dances, and whirls around in order to paint the most beautiful picture.
And, I just need you to know that I miss you.
An Italian Stuck in Davis
(photo via: freemug)