I like living in a place where you find poetry written by contemporary people plastered to exterior walls of the city. Heck, I even like the graffiti.

Translated into English it reads: The hot air fills with dry thunder. I miss a me that never existed.

I like living in a place where I can walk daily by a multitude of doors that, in any one specific instance, would bring you to a stop. They are so plentiful in Italy that really stopping and seeing them becomes difficult. They are just a part of the built environment, like the sound of church bells throughout the days and nights.

But look at the beauty of the wood and the ironwork on this fabulous door. It is magnificent in its own way and yet it is just one of many thousands in Florence alone.

And then double it!

I like living in a place where lemon trees in huge ceramic pots are wrapped during winter, allowing the plants to survive so that they can blossom and bloom and bear fruit to decorate the coming spring, summer and fall. Winter is a small sacrifice for a plant that glories in three seasons. This is just an average alleyway between several apartment and villas in the center of Florence.

I like living here. I’d even say I love living here. I’m so grateful to be here and the long wait only makes me appreciate it more!

And people in the US ask me why I want to live in Italy! Boh!

Voila! Eccoci!