When I left the cafe yesterday I dropped things back at the hotel and started walking. Just the same route I have been walking. I saw a banner with some weird art. I love weird art. In small print–“Padiglione d’Arte Contemporanea.” Contemporary art! I typed it into my phone and started walking.

It was supposed to rain all day, but the sun was out. How beautiful. My path was through a tree-lined street, then a park, quieter, a bit off the beaten path.

So many nice dogs. Everyone here has the prettiest, nicest, most perfectly-trained dogs. They just walk beside them, sometimes on a leash, other times off. They barely even look at other people, but they look happy. I want to pet all of them, but don’t know the rules. And…don’t want to risk some embarrassing exchange in Italian. So I just admire them as I walk by. I’m certain I’ve seen the same golden retriever three days in a row. Sweet face, blocky head, legs are a bit shorter, SO CUTE.

Also, allergies. For some reason I thought, new city, new me, no allergies. But no. There are these little floaty, fluffy, white seed things that just float everywhere, from one of the trees. Do I have COVID? Oh, no, just freaking allergies. From these little fluffy things.

My phone tells me I’ve arrived at my destination…Ummm….A stucco wall. And on the other side of the street the park. I keep walking a bit to an open gate. This is it. I walk into the courtyard. My god, how lovely. I find the ticket booth. $8. I walk into the gallery. This is what I love. Wooden floors. White walls that have been painted 572 times. A studio and a gallery. And art.

I turn to the left. So simple, but so beautiful. The space feels nice. The ceiling is some kind of metal grate, lighting is some very interesting gallery lights, directional with some kind of hood.

And the handrail on the stairs–look at that handrail. LOOK at that handrail. LOOK AT THE HANDRAIL. I love it.

And the art is intriguing. I walk around studying it for a while, then walk out. There is another gallery that is closed today. I don’t know why, but they open the door for me and tell me it’s closed and to come back tomorrow. Ok.

I realize I have only had granola and yogurt and espresso and it’s about 5:00 pm. I get a table at the cafe, which is in what looks like a greenhouse, and order a cocktail and a pasta dish. Holy smokes. This whole thing is wonderful.

I make my way back to my hotel to rest before the evening. I don’t know why, but I’m still so exhausted. Just mentally exhausted.

It starts to rain. Ah, this is what was supposed to come through earlier. Great. I don’t have my rain coat, so I just put my headphones in and enjoy the walk in the rain. Some folks with umbrellas, some without, others dip into a cafe for a while until it lets up. I keep walking.

I get back to the hotel and read for a while, and at some point fall asleep. Whyyy did I do that. I wake up at 8:00 pm. I’m never going to sleep tonight. I’ve been having trouble sleeping anyway. Dreams of my mom. Of being in school with deadlines. Some kind of weird stress in my brain.

I’m not hungry, and I feel lonely, or sad, or something. Maybe it was waking up to it being dark outside. In my dark hotel room. Some kind of emotion waiting for me in the darkness. What the hell? I’m on the greatest adventure. And somehow I brought this with me. To bubble back up.

I decide to go walk it off. I’m going to get gelato.

Weaving through streets where the buildings get closer together and the streets tighter. Walking, pounding the earth in the darkness.

For some reason I think about Newton’s Third Law of Motion often. Like more than you should ever really think of Newton’s Laws of Motion unless you’re maybe a physicist or high schooler in a physics class. Or something.

But the idea that every time I walk I push the earth, exert a force. And it exerts an equal force back to me. Pushing me back. This giant rock, spinning and speeding through space pushes me. I push it, and it pushes me back. Step. Push. Step. Push.

I get to the gelateria. So tiny.

“Buona serata!” I order the pistachio and ricotta gelato in a cone. With whipped cream and cocoa powder. May possibly be the greatest thing I have eaten. I walk out into what honestly looks like an alley. Nowhere to sit.

I walk out to sit in the Piazza Lina Bo Bardi. I love Lina Bo Bardi. Reminds me of my friend. He loves her. I texted him earlier. “You finally made it out of Memphis!” Yes, yes I did. I should have expected shit from him. I haven’t talked to him in a very long time. But he still offers his European contacts if I’m ever interested. Probably so. I love all my people.

But I still can’t shake the feeling of being alone. Of wanting to share this all with someone. Someone right here. To walk along the street with me at night, holding my hand, looking in the windows of the shops.

The gelato is dripping down my hands. I look like some kid eating ice cream on a hot day. Maybe the gelato is holding my hand. Gross. Not what I was thinking.

I decide to see what the cathedral looks like at night. So I walk back down the path to the cathedral.

The city is beautiful at night. Lit perfectly. Everything feels safe and cozy. I want to share it. Please let me share it. Please let me not feel alone.

As I’m walking I see a heart spray painted on the stone of a building. Who does that? Anyway, I decide it’s for me. Maybe a promise from the Universe. I keep walking.

I get to the cathedral. It’s bright, like a full moon. White, big. Honestly I was hoping for a bit more drama, not floods, but nobody asked me about the lighting. Weird.

I decide it’s better this way–without so many people milling about, with the night sky as the backdrop. I get closer and study the sculpture. The telamons holding the weight of the stone. Judith beheading Holofernes. Get it girl! Feels somehow symbolic with everything that’s happening with the Supreme Court back home. Missing RBG lately.

I decide I’m going to walk around. But just outside the piazza it feels like Vegas. Some people stumbling around. Some weird smells. Lots of bright lights. Someone is coughing and someone else blowing their nose as loud as humanly possible…in public. Nope. Going back.

A couple having an argument on the corner. A group of friends walk out of a bar. One of the guys spins out of the group and starts punching the life out of someone’s helmet case on the back of their moped. What on earth. His friends start shouting at him, pulling him away, they put their arms around him and continue down the street. He looks defeated. That was….neat.

Keep walking and pushing the earth. I think about all the things so much. So so so much. In my head about everything. But that’s how I do things. And perhaps I can’t change it.

I see another heart spray painted on a building. Who knows how old this building is. But someone spray painted a heart. And I decide again it’s for me. A message. Ok. I got it.

There is love. Right now is about you. What is meant for you will find you. You are on the right path.

It starts drizzling. I’m getting closer to my hotel. A guy walking speeds ahead of me. I thought I was walking fast. His cologne is intoxicating. He has on Levi’s. I recognize the tag. Dark hair. I decide I could probably follow him to the ends of the earth. I look down and back up again, he turns the corner a block before my hotel. Guess I won’t be following him to the ends of the earth. Ciao.

This morning I woke up and decided I need a new pen. Or two. Or half a dozen. Somehow in my packing haste I left my fountain pens and gray ink on my desk. Or in another backpack. Not really sure.

And for some reason I haven’t felt very creative. Or in the spirit to sketch or make things like I was hoping. I think some emotions are in the way…clogging up my brain. Blocking some freedom I’m looking for.

All these stationery stores look boring…and not serious. Sorry. I need an art supply store. Yes. I find one about a 30 minute walk away, in a neighborhood I haven’t been to. Let’s go.

I start walking. Push the earth. And my god, somehow this walk is better than any before. I walk past cafes and think, “Ok, remember that one, and then walk back and get food. No wait, that one.” Keep walking. “Ok that cafe, walk back and remember it.” They all look so wonderful.

I finally get to the shop. Only four people allowed inside at once. Perhaps because it is the size of an East Memphis closet. Not quite a Germantown closet, East Memphis for sure.

But it’s all my stuff! Oh. I really love it here. What I assume are art students are getting some supplies. They look like I used to, wandering into the Art Center. Art school in Milan. Can you imagine?

I get some pens and walk back to one of the cafes. I decide on pizza. I haven’t had that the entire time I’ve been here (I know you’re surprised). Quattro Formaggio. But not like just any formaggio. Magical formaggio. It’s incredible.

I pull out my little sketchbook to test my new pens. Ok, fine. I’ll sketch something. To be honest I haven’t sketched in so long. I just haven’t felt inspired. Like something is missing. Or something isn’t right. But I do it. And it feels good. And I decide it doesn’t have to be “perfect.” And you don’t know what it was supposed to look like anyway.

The server Paolino stops and looks at my sketchbook. He’s young. And kind. And he is bussing all the tables, taking all the orders, bringing out all the food.

He looks up, back at my sketchbook, back up. “Ah!!! It’s nice. Very nice.”

“Yeah? Grazie.”

Grazie, Paolino.

I decide there is an art school around here somewhere, so many people who look like art students. One girl sits down at the table next to me and shows her friend that she made paper. Maybe with a potato masher, maybe not.

I see people walking through a building…I decide it’s some kind of gallery, museum, something. Pinacoteca di Brera.

I go in and find the ticket kiosk and buy a ticket for the gallery. For some reason the hallways on the ground floor are rather empty. I wander around. Where the hell is the gallery? Did I just buy a ticket to wander some old building?

I look into a room–a lecture! Oh wait. A class? I walk down the hall. A studio! It’s an art school? Wow. I can’t imagine. I decide this is the art school.

I see a sign that points to the gardens and I walk around those for a while. I can see into what looks to be a printmaking studio. It thunders and then starts pouring rain. Back to looking for the gallery.

I wander upstairs and find it. Italian art. Obviously. Old. Religious. I slowly walk through the galleries. They get darker. And suddenly I’m standing in front of a Caravaggio. Silence. Then thunder in the background. In a dimly lit gallery. As dim as the painting itself. This feels special.

I end at a beautiful cafe. And then out to the bookstore. I see a necklace a friend would like. A quick, shooting pain in my heart. I miss her. I like to think she’s been with me this whole time. I touch it and wish I could give it to her. Dammit. Tears. But I walk back out in the storm so they can mix with the rain.

The rain puts me in my feels.

It is RAINING. Hard. With thunder. And it’s cooler. I get the puffy jackets now, folks.

I don’t know if school is out today, but I see so many young kids. Like, little kids with their parents. They all have tiny umbrellas. And they step up on these tiny scooters and their parents pull them through the streets like luggage on wheels. It’s adorable.

Makes me want to walk through the city with my babies. With a well-behaved dog by my side. With a boy holding my hand.

Damn. Dammit all.

It’s ok. This is about you. Feel it and let it out. What is meant for you will find you. You do you. You got it.

I haven’t had any espresso today, so I’m going to find some before it’s time for wine.