I'm sitting on the terrace of my apartment in Florence, Italy. It's a cool September evening, and the resonant sound of bells from a nearby church fills the air. I have a view of the hills to the east of town, and I can see the sky from my bed in the morning, as the sun rises. Otherwise, the view from the terrazza is of the roofs or walls of adjoining buildings. But I have a very private, quiet space, so I can hang out on the terrace whenever I like. I have many large windows in the kitchen and the bedroom. The glass-paned door to the terrace also serves as a window, opening into a small space which serves as the "living room," with an antique love seat, a wicker chair and a small table.
On the terrazza there's a table, an umbrella to shade it and a variety of chairs and chaises. I'll be looking for plants to decorate the space with. There's a cool breeze wafting by now, and I'm happy to just sit still for a while. I ventured out to a nearby supermarket to buy some staples for the apartment: fruit, cereal, pasta, vegetables, cheese, tuna, eggs, milk, dish soap. My place is four floors up from the street, and very quiet, but once I approach the front door of the building, I can hear the noise of the city. No cars are allowed in this area of town, but there's a steady stream of people, mostly locals, on foot or bike, along with the sound of conversation and the clatter of dishes from a nearby cafe.
I can hardly believe I'm here!