Italy

"'It is fate that I am here,' George persisted, 'but you can call it Italy if it makes you less unhappy.'" 
- E.M. Forster, A Room with a View

My life can be marked by the cities I have lived in or traveled to. Currently preparing for another big move, I sat down in the house that I grew up in to take a breather, along with about a dozen novels, pens, and paintbrushes. Amid these few days of rest, I had with me a book that I had long been meaning to read. Perhaps I found myself traipsing through Italy again because E. had lent it to me or perhaps this is simply what Italy means to everyone, but I remember agreeing with her on a departing train that we must return, except with lovers as it is not an appropriate venue for friends.

A Room with a View didn't go to Venice, but that's where my affair with the peninsula started so... we'll end with Forster's version but start with mine [Mr Eager and Miss Lavish would sneer here] by remembering Venice's shoulder wide alleyways above green canals, the exact moments between grit and sky that make Italy so romantic: