Plodding down the cobblestones heading towards the restaurant for a farewell dinner, the air is cool and I can feel the early fall chill starting to surround the city. September arrived faster than expected, and goodbyes are difficult. The summer in Florence, with the blazing sun and hectic but incredible schedule with bus2alps, blinded me from completely experiencing the city as a wonderful place in itself. I missed out on the small things that can change the day around. As my heels echo down the streets, laden with the days tourists but now barren from their heavy footfalls and suitcases, I begin to take in what I have been forgetting for so long in these few days of solitude before the students arrive.
A lone couple are on the right near the stairs of the church on my street corner, their shadows stretching sideways in the yellowed streetlight. Her arms reach up to his neck as he brings her into his, sweeping her motionless legs up towards him. And as he places her on the stairs, the stairs worn with years and years of memories, her smile up to him is the purest form of adventure that can be sought. He pushes the wheelchair aside, its shadow skittering across the stones and away from the couple. And he puts his arm around her and their eyes move over the timeless city in wonder. And I, instead of the churches and the Duomo and the towers and the ancient Roman foundations, look at them.