It’s chilly and damp in the streets, the bone chilling dampness that was here when I arrived. In March, there were days that I just could not get warm. I layered my clothes, took hot baths, wrapped in blankets, but the concrete surrounding me, in my apartment (plaster and tiles) in the streets, (cobblestones and block palaces) seeped into my bones and joints.
I am welcoming it now as I wind up my days here. The crowds have lessened, the wind is chilled, the rain has come, the carousel on Piazza della Republica has returned from it’s summer at the beach, the harvest moon shines behind the Palazzo Vecchio and on Piazza della Signoria in a mystical way through the misty fog at night, and I still walk in wonder at the beauty around me.
I try not to be too nostalgic, sad, or melancholy as my time winds up. Who can believe all that I have seen, done, and experienced? What a gift I have given to myself. .