August 8th, 2 p.m.
A warm, soft breeze rustles the branches of Hotel Kraft’s rooftop cypress tree. This is the quietest Florence has ever been; the Sunday bells have fallen silent, and the typical weekday sounds of Vespas, cars and bicycle bells are missing. Danny clicks his green lighter, briefly disturbing the peace of this place, and lights his Camel Blue cigarette. The smell of tobacco smoke mingles with the scents of chlorine, sunscreen, and newspaper (all probably originating from the same source—Danny is fresh from the pool, has reapplied his SPF 45, and is reading Corriere della Sera).
The sky is a perfect blue. Not a wisp of cloud in sight. From this sixth floor oasis, I can see all of Florence. The Duomo is a compass, letting me identify other landmarks of the city—San Lorenzo, Piazza della Repubblica, Palazzo Vecchio’s tower. In the distance, Fiesole (Fee-EH-so-lay) keeps watch over the city from its hillside perch.
After a whirlwind tour of Cortona and Montepulciano yesterday, Cinque Terre the day before, and six weeks’ worth of travel and studying, it is a pleasure to have nothing to do, and someone to have nothing to do with.
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| On the rooftop at sunset--photo taken by Danny. Thanks!! |
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