-:
Google
A few summers ago, I walked around this square young and beautiful and heartbroken. I paced the streets in the warm mid-July air, with all the hope and love my newly 22-year old form could ever possibly contain. I was waiting on a friend, whom I felt was the love of my life at the time, to meet me in Verona. It was far fetched of me to believe in it, there were a million variables and things in the way. Of course, he couldn’t come. Silly Americans raised on romance movies and fallacious dreams of finding paradise or love in Europe. Deliriously thinking we’ll find peace or escape or everything we’ve ever wanted on our annual 2 weeks off. I paced the town for three nights. Unable to rest, every neuron in my brain lit up and firing, only concerned about one singular thing (person,) him. I paced the city in silence, listening to music and smoking a few Italian marlboros. All the while, my heart spilling over with all of the love my 22 year old form could contain. I was sitting on some steps in this piazza when lightning began to strike overhead. Beautiful stabs of light across the dark sky over Dante’s statue. The storm continued the whole night. I felt the sky (and Dante) were sad with me.