Roman Behaviour

Gelati that tastes like pears straight off the tree, boys that look like paintings, girls on scooters flying around corners, crumbled stone at my feet…

And now, I am sitting on a train, hurtling through the Italian countryside, sure that I haven’t seen enough of this little shoe. I need more time, that’s what it is. I decided in Nice that this wasn’t really the way I wanted to do this. I am not happy sleeping in rooms with 14 snoring strangers, lugging my tonne weight pack onto trains every second day. I do not want to be up late drinking with Australians or standing in three hour long lines for the things other people will be disappointed that we didn’t see. I know there are those things that you should see in every place, but really, all I want is to wander the streets and be a sponge. I want to eat their food and learn their language, I want to become Italian or Spanish or Chinese or whatever, even if just for a little while.

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