The inviting, spacious park of the Art Institute of Florence is my favorite outdoor place to write: cross the Ponte Vecchio, walk by the Pitti Palace and along Via Roma to Porta Roma, and I am there. I’ve blogged about this park before, and posted pictures of people enjoying themselves. Here it all is again: people picnicking, lounging, reading, playing games, biking, walking dogs, napping, chatting, discussing…—the young and old and everyone in between.
I come to this same city again and again; I visit the same parks, museums and churches again and again; and I eat at the same food at the same restaurants again and again. Yes, I use the word same, but each time, each visit it is different. Sometimes things look different—a building is restored, the menu has changed, the weather varies. And of course, I am different (at least, older). And yet, three longings and satisfactions remain the same: traveling alone; walking around with God; writing.
I come to this same city again and again; I visit the same parks, museums and churches again and again; and I eat at the same food at the same restaurants again and again. Yes, I use the word same, but each time, each visit it is different. Sometimes things look different—a building is restored, the menu has changed, the weather varies. And of course, I am different (at least, older). And yet, three longings and satisfactions remain the same: traveling alone; walking around with God; writing.