Every day I dream of Florence. I dream about walking down ancient cobbled stone streets in my Birkenstock sandals. I dream of lazily sampling every flavour of gelato, while looking across the Arno. I dream of shopping up a storm, admiring art, discovering new delights and even the smell of Italian cigarette smoke. I dream of the strong aroma of coffee that meets your nose around every corner, and the thrill of hearing gorgeous Italian words every minute.
I dream of going out for late night dinners, and passing out, exhausted, into bed. Only to wake up and do it all again the next day.
Until we meet again Firenze.