(no subject)
in america, men and women in business suits rush to starbucks in the morning for their coffee in paper cups, which they'll carry with them in their cars off to work.
in ascoli, they walk in the sunshine to cafes and sit outside sipping cafe latte, reading the newspaper and looking out across the piazza.
i miss italy. i don't know if i'm cut out for the rush of america anymore, i don't know if i was ever made for this. i want to travel the world, with something other than my navy blue passport and naive eyes.
in ascoli people were kind enough to put up with my attempts at italian, even if they could have easily spoken to me in english. and when they asked where i was from i felt ashamed telling them in my halting, stumbling language. but they'd smile, gently correct my grammar, and we'd be on our way.
we are so young. this country is so young, there is so much we do not understand, how we are paving pathways to our own demise. we've become an empire, it's true. but empires fall. have we not realized this?
we can't do this forever.
and so what to do - to stay, to suck it up or fight it out, try to change things. or to run away entirely. back to sipping coffee on terraces, walking slowly down the street with the sellers in the market calling and taking time to notice the sun rising and setting over the mountains in the distance.