Me – I’m going to stay inside all day and do work.
Florence – But I’m Florence. Florence is better than work.
Me – No, I’ve been here more than a week now, it’s time I wrote some Ex Urbe entries and shared some of what I’ve done so far.
Florence – I have pizza…
Me – I went to more than a dozen museums, and so many restaurants to describe!
Florence – Gelato…
Me – It’s Vasari’s birthday; I really want to write about him today.
Florence – Frescoes, sculpture…
Me – You’ll have frescoes tomorrow.
Florence – But I have perfect weather today, cool and breezy and just humid enough.
Me – I opened the windows.
Florence – A beautiful sunset, curls of twisty pink cloud growing steadily purple as the sky turns richer and richer blue, wouldn’t that look amazing next to the green and white stripes of my Baptistery, or the gold stone tower of the Palazzo Vecchio?
Me – Look, I’m just trying to write home about how wonderful you are! Can’t you stop being so wonderful for a few hours?
Florence – I have live music.
Me – I don’t care.
Florence – A live orchestra tucked away in one of the squares below, notes drifting up: Bach, then Vivaldi, you know you love Vivaldi…
Me – I’m not listening.
Florence – Crowds cheering, drums…
Me – Not listening.
Florence – Fireworks…
Me – Wait, really?
Florence – Fireworks, crackling, over by the Duomo, just low enough that you can’t quite see them beyond the houses. You know I haven’t had fireworks by the Duomo since Easter.
Me – … … …
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