Follow Me To Florence
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Follow Me To Florence

What was I doing here, in a city seen a thousand times?

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Follow Me To Florence
Rebeka Torres

Deflated from the humidity, my curls bobbed limply as I strolled down the cobblestone. Scents of ambrosial pastries wafted through my nostrils. It took nearly all of my self-discipline not to peer at the brightly decorated and cream-filled pastries through their glass cases. Surely the little devil on my shoulder, also posing as my ever-present sweet tooth, would convince me to indulge myself in at least one of the treats if I glanced over. I journeyed on victorious, this time. The maze of graffiti covered alleys I had been navigating eventually spat me out in the center of a piazza.

The sun had graced Florence, wrapping me up in a glorious hug of warmth. I shimmied past a hoard of tourists, keeping my eyes perpetually toward the sky. Above the doors of the cathedral, hues of reds and greens were faded behind biblical figures. My train of thought was interrupted by the growling of my stomach. What was there to possibly eat? I laughed at the thought. Whether it was the plate of pasta, whose portion was larger than my head, or the mildly salty bite from a prosciutto panino, I did not fret as to where I would end up satiating my inclination for something inherently Italian.

It was not enough to merely witness the sights, but more crucial to the way they made me feel. My astonishment for the buildings, monuments rather, would never subside. There is such gravity in knowing that they have been standing, more or less, for centuries, enduring the critical glare of all who laid eyes on them. True champions of time are they for the pure fact of just having existed for years upon years upon years.

My eyes scanned the area, catching snippets of everyday life not dissimilar to the one I had temporarily ceded. I left behind a world of routine, venturing many miles and over seas with the promise of adventure and the chance to seize opportunities that only come but maybe once in a lifetime. I would let Firenze consume me. Chew me up, and swallow me whole. My heart, my soul, my laughs, my tears, my fears and my hopes.

I came to taste: chomp, chew, gnaw, devour, engulf and savor. I came to see: behold, contemplate, gawk and witness. I came to hear: listen, heed and unearth. I came to smell: inhale, sniff and detect. I came to touch: feel, affix, smear and massage.

I had confidence that Firenze would change me for the better, but never did I think that it would completely steal my heart and speak so directly to my soul.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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