Last day in Firenze

9.12.10


Firenze, Italia



A Romanesque yet Gothic Florentine cathedral, read: Magnificence



Today is our last day in the birthplace of the Rebirth. In terms of our health, spirits, and overall vigor, we have experienced a rebirth of our own here. I guess the notion transcends time!

Our next stop along the way will be Siena, which will be simply grand. After Siena, we will continue over hill and dale towards Roma, lovely ancient Roma, where the skies are so blue (I hope this is true, oh do I miss the Sun!). From the Eternal City (does this imply we'll be stuck there forever?), Sean and I will be flying out to Dublin, where I will bid him a fair and fine farewell and enjoy the company of some dear friends and relatives outside of Joyce's stomping ground (along with Paris). When I return to the lower European continent and to my mount, I might just have to take the advice of a few friends and head south, south, south to Sicily and beyond, to Egypt! The northern African coast would be something wondrous to explore.

But looking ahead should be limited to prevent losing sight of what we have in front of us now and whose company we are enjoying at the moment. That is, Firenze has not been completely explored, the villa has many a path to be walked, and Sean - my steadfast companion and keeper of the keys - is still laughing and whistling by my side (but slightly above my head). So with renewed vigor, as a phoenix rising from Arizona, we step out into the cloudy but warm Florentine environment, intent on gozando de la vida actual.


PS I'm including a snapshot of a famous grave site in Paris that I never got a chance to upload, as I never told the full tale of that beautiful city, which Hemingway calls a Moveable Feast. I had to visit what was previously the final resting place of an American hero, before someone concerned with grave vandalism from the adoring fans moved his remains back to California. I had to do this for two people: Dad and Laura. You two aren't overwhelmingly huge fans of his, but seeing the grave made me think of you both immensely (just like the Bears, or the moon). Without further ado, I present to you, the final resting place of Beatrix Kiddo, er James Douglas Morrison.