Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tropea has a distinct smell that I catch a whiff of from time to time... like dust and fire and sea, like moon sand and smoke...a little gritty, a little sweet. I dream massive amounts of dreams in my bed up on the hill. Most of them come and go like ghosts before I can grab on to remembrance, but I clearly recall when, two nights ago, someone looked into my eyes and said, "The key to falling in love...is LETTING yourself". Today I ate two ice creams, both chocolate, and held tiny kittens in my hands. There were four of them, each with completely different eyes. One pair mysterious dark moons, one pair wide and curious, one pair with egyptian slants, one pair so sleepy they could barely open. I wanted so badly to take one home with me...the playful fuzzy one with large curious eyes. But I bought a basket of bright red strawberries instead, and will do my best not to go back tomorrow or the next day. Today is the first day of summer, the first day I haven't needed a sweater at night. As I rode my scooter down the hill under the stars I felt warm breezes brushing past me, and something in their texture felt like home.