I miss us. I mean, I know a lot of people miss you, but after all we’ve been through together, being apart from you feels personal. If only I had thrown my last Euro coin into the Trevi Fountain to transport myself back there, instead of wishing for more Margherita pizza.
I see now why they say all roads lead to you. All my thoughts come back to you, after all. It’s the early morning cobblestone walks through Piazza Navona, and the 2pm espresso at a marble countertop. It’s getting lost in the Jewish Quarter in a way that feels like I’m the first person to discover your ancient history, and ordering the best cacio e pepe I’ve ever had.
But when I scroll back through the pictures I took while standing in awe of the Pantheon’s ceiling or the Colosseum’s floor, I’m reminded of your resilience. We may call the Roman Forum “ruins,” but what it really is is a celebration of a people who for thousands of years have refused to crumble.
Me (and everyone else who dreams of la dolce vita)