Italy

I’ve put off writing this postcard for weeks now, not because I don’t want to do it, but because I don’t know how to capture in words the beauty that this trip was. I hate admitting that — that I don’t know how to bend the words to my will for this one. The more I’ve thought about it, the more the words evade me. I don’t know how to describe to you how perfect everything was even though it wasn’t exactly how we thought it was going to be, how ogni giorno era un sogno che voglio revivere.

There’s nothing quite so breathtaking as seeing the sights of Rome illuminated in their full splendor at night, nothing quite so enjoyable as wandering ancient alleyways and bustling streets for hours on end, stopping at little cafes here and there for warmth, cacio e pepe, and Italian practice with the locals. Truly, our adventures in Italy felt like something out of a movie — walking across an empty Rome in the early morning rain before the city awakens, getting caught in a hailstorm in Florence and laughing like kids as we ducked for cover, admiring Michelangelo clouds over Ponte Vecchio, exploring Tuscan villages of old, recovering from art overload in the Holy places, savoring the views of one exquisite Florentine sunset for the rest of my life.

I wish I could just snap my fingers and go back to relive these moments — every moment we spent in Italy.

My attempt at describing these days in Italy is meager at best, so I’ll let the pictures take it from here. I don’t want to look at that as a bad thing. My time in Italy is just too beautiful for words, and that’s entirely alright with me.