Open my heart and you will see Graved inside of it, "Italy."
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The year is 2003 , I am standing on a dimly lit corner in Florence , Italy with my roommate the air is damp and we are waiting for her friend Alex and his new girlfriend . Before we left the house we smoked some hash . We came to the conclusion that no matter where you need to go in
Italy if you smoke some hash before you leave the house you will arrive there in what feels like five minutes . Hash was our own secret "Time Travel Machine " . I am dehydrated , I tilt my head upwards to look at the sun beaming down on me . The giant star in the sky is having no mercy on me today and I curse myself for wearing all black again ( a torn iron maiden tee shirt that an ex - boyfriend got for me , and black tights I got from a street vendor the day before ) . My roommate and I hold hands , we fear that we may get lost in shuffle of all the beauty that is Italy . There are what seems to be beautiful people everywhere . And we are the Americans ...and the truth is you never really feel American until you visit somewhere else . There customs seems so much more flavorful than my own . There is a steadiness in Italy's . One gets the feeling that the Italians know something about "time " that the Americans just don't know , and that whatever it is they know , they have accepted it , even embraced it and managed to seduce it into submission . I have grown tired of waiting and I am considering leaving ..Until "Have you guys been waiting long " Alex says . "No" my roommate says . Standing next to Alex is a thin , very long legged Japanese girl , who looks like a boy who looks like a beautiful girl . She is wearing all black . She is wearing shoes that seem as if she just plucked them out of th
e box only seconds before they came to see us . Her hair is dark black and neatly pulled back towards the nap of her neck . Her ears are noticeably large and bare of any earring holes . And she smelled like leather , like something that has been written in stone , like bravery , like blood , paper , straw , something sweet , like how you'd expect a Greek God to smell if you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting one . Ah Androgyny ..... That night we went off to a dimly lit bar that we would later on in the trip refer to as "Our spot " . While there he met some local drug dealers who explained to us that he had owned several blocks in Italy and that if we stuck with him " Nobody would Fuck with us " ( and no one did that entire trip ) . Later I found myself alone with her and I asked the magic 
question while having a forth vodka shot .."What are you wearing" ..she smiled confidently and said "It's called Fahrenheit , it's by Christian Dior.. It's for men .. but I like it anyways ".. Hours later in a dark alley in Italy I would pull her close to me by her waist and softly touch her face , her mouth tasted of alcohol and expensive cigars . While tearing at my clothing she would tell me... while I pulled her hair ,kissing her wet mouth ferociously , passionately that she also uses the after shave...and the damn shampoo ( a girl after my own heart) . I would tell her that I wanted her to come home with me , and she would say "Yes ". While walking back into the bar I would be confronted by a drunk Alex who didn't take to kindly to me tasting the cologne on his girlfriend who smelled like she could be someones boyfriend. S o I never saw her much after that . Although I did manage to purchase a little bottle for myself later on during the trip and it was as the Italians say "bella" ...
j
The year is 2003 , I am standing on a dimly lit corner in Florence , Italy with my roommate the air is damp and we are waiting for her friend Alex and his new girlfriend . Before we left the house we smoked some hash . We came to the conclusion that no matter where you need to go in
Italy if you smoke some hash before you leave the house you will arrive there in what feels like five minutes . Hash was our own secret "Time Travel Machine " . I am dehydrated , I tilt my head upwards to look at the sun beaming down on me . The giant star in the sky is having no mercy on me today and I curse myself for wearing all black again ( a torn iron maiden tee shirt that an ex - boyfriend got for me , and black tights I got from a street vendor the day before ) . My roommate and I hold hands , we fear that we may get lost in shuffle of all the beauty that is Italy . There are what seems to be beautiful people everywhere . And we are the Americans ...and the truth is you never really feel American until you visit somewhere else . There customs seems so much more flavorful than my own . There is a steadiness in Italy's . One gets the feeling that the Italians know something about "time " that the Americans just don't know , and that whatever it is they know , they have accepted it , even embraced it and managed to seduce it into submission . I have grown tired of waiting and I am considering leaving ..Until "Have you guys been waiting long " Alex says . "No" my roommate says . Standing next to Alex is a thin , very long legged Japanese girl , who looks like a boy who looks like a beautiful girl . She is wearing all black . She is wearing shoes that seem as if she just plucked them out of th
e box only seconds before they came to see us . Her hair is dark black and neatly pulled back towards the nap of her neck . Her ears are noticeably large and bare of any earring holes . And she smelled like leather , like something that has been written in stone , like bravery , like blood , paper , straw , something sweet , like how you'd expect a Greek God to smell if you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting one . Ah Androgyny ..... That night we went off to a dimly lit bar that we would later on in the trip refer to as "Our spot " . While there he met some local drug dealers who explained to us that he had owned several blocks in Italy and that if we stuck with him " Nobody would Fuck with us " ( and no one did that entire trip ) . Later I found myself alone with her and I asked the magic 
question while having a forth vodka shot .."What are you wearing" ..she smiled confidently and said "It's called Fahrenheit , it's by Christian Dior.. It's for men .. but I like it anyways ".. Hours later in a dark alley in Italy I would pull her close to me by her waist and softly touch her face , her mouth tasted of alcohol and expensive cigars . While tearing at my clothing she would tell me... while I pulled her hair ,kissing her wet mouth ferociously , passionately that she also uses the after shave...and the damn shampoo ( a girl after my own heart) . I would tell her that I wanted her to come home with me , and she would say "Yes ". While walking back into the bar I would be confronted by a drunk Alex who didn't take to kindly to me tasting the cologne on his girlfriend who smelled like she could be someones boyfriend. S o I never saw her much after that . Although I did manage to purchase a little bottle for myself later on during the trip and it was as the Italians say "bella" ...j
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