I slowly wake to the chiming bells of the Duomo and make my way to a cafe nearby, ordering a machiatto I enjoy standing casually at the counter amidst others doing the same. I have time, so after the shot I find a sunny seat in front of the cathedral and finish reading the last few pages of a book that's had a hold of me, intermittently lifting my eye to gaze at the varied people strolling by. There are men is sharp shiny suits smoking cigarettes and women in four inch stilettos riding bikes.
After some time, I confidently make my way (without a map) down the winding cobblestone pedestrian ways lined with shops - designer clothing, shoes, and gelatto. Upon meeting my colleague for lunch in the marble-floored, glass-domed galleria, I flawlessly execute the grab and hold right hand, right then left cheek kiss kiss (gone are the days of the awkward "left first? right first?" head bobs). I have a prosciutto pizza, a glass of Amarone, and the conversation is intellectual and productive. I'm tan, rested from a recent holiday, and its a good hair day.
I'm starting to get a handle on this. It wasn't a dream, but at moments real life is so good it feels like one.
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