I can’t remember the last time I had this many emotions in one single day. I cried this morning, overjoyed a bit later for finding a valid alternative to the plane and now I’m jubilant again for the planes finally starting to take off normally.
I am officially off for Italy at 10.40 from Copenhagen and I am landing in Pisa, Italy at 13.00.
From there it is vacation. An aperitivo (come si deve) and best-pizza-in-the-world Wednesday for sure with 3 best friends.
Me cooking dinner for A and her lovely family Thursday.
Aperi-disco with former club-collegues at the opening of a high-fashion-outlet Friday, and dinner and night out with 4th GF Saturday.
Reunion with former agency-mates some evening and a day with A at the beach. Eat seafood while we’re there, perfume of seasalt on hot, hard, scarlet shells, put out fire with crisp, fragrant white wine. Primitive joy. Get dizzy from the wine and surrender in the sun to confused dreams infused with salt, heat and sweat.
Shop at market in Prato.
Roam the streets of Florence and Prato, buying fresh fish and food on a whim and taking it home to A to cook for all of the family. Take out the bike that I left with her (and that she keeps splendent) to run too fast along the river, wind in my hair.
Maybe the jasmins will be on their way along certain streets in Prato, seducing the neighbourhood with their scent, maybe I can still find wild asparagus under the pungitopi along the road. Only I know how to find and cook them anyway, A still can’t see them.
Eat the best bistecca in Italy, the Fiorentina, 800 grams of pure lust. Swearing fluently and coarsely in dialect, get mistaken for an Italian, and laughing loudly of the joy of it all. High on the ridiculous smallness of the things that makes us happy.
Oh, be still my beating heart.
I feel like I can never sleep again.