Florence Day Six — The House From A Room with a View
We woke in Pisa the way we had woken every morning of this journey, slowly, tenderly, as though there were no reason in the world to hurry towards the day. A whispered Buongiorno , kisses, and then love. Afterwards we went down for breakfast in the little villa. There was something almost melancholy about sitting there, knowing that soon we would have to leave. The places we had slept in had begun to acquire a strange intimacy. A room is only a room when you enter it. But after a night together, after laughter, sleep, kisses, love, clothes scattered over chairs and suitcases waiting by the door, it becomes part of the story. We packed and left. One last look at Pisa. One last goodbye to the Piazza dei Miracoli, to the river, to the quiet streets we had walked the night before. Then we turned the motorcycle towards Florence. The road became familiar again. We passed through landscapes we had already seen, and then came the airport road, the road that had brought me into Italy...
